Finding Mikan
by IndigoGrapefruit
Summary: In dire times, even the fiercest enemies can become the best of friends.
1. Attack of the Tangerines

**A note before you begin, m'dear reader!**

Welcome to the universe of Finding Mikan! 'Tis a mystery story centred on Hotaru's trials and tribulations of returning to Japan as an estranged twenty-five-year-old freelance inventor. So the exact same universe as the original, but different. This is an rational, adult perspective to a manga marketed for teens and preteens, and it discusses stuff. Dark stuff, mature stuff. Like addiction and segregation and divorce. Of course, there's also some _other_ stuff like abandoned golden trophies, crimson pouches, bipolar government personnel and pet chickens but hey, all that stuff'll come later.

Thank you, MiladyQueenMab, for the cover image!

I, IndigoGrapefruit, officially disclaim whatever that is not mine as something that is not mine.

Enjoy, enjoy! Happy reading and remember, all's well ends well! ;)

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><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter One: Attack of the Tangerines

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><p>Ten minutes to landing, Hotaru Imai fixed her shrewd eyes on forty-floor buildings and even higher skyscrapers. In the early hours of twilight, Tokyo shone golden in its glory and grandeur. Through an oval window, she peered into a storybook of gleaming glass buildings and majestic bridges, of tiny bright white asterisks on passenger doors of the myriad cars that whistled by on the streets below.<p>

And she could not help but to think of Boston, of New York.

For what else was this other than a wretched homecoming?

The facts were laid out one by one in black and white. She had not been in her "mother" country for an overwhelming _fifteen_ years and she certainly never would have returned in free will. Despite that Hotaru already applied for an American citizenship, a few phone calls, legal documents, and assertive demands from the Japanese government landed her in a very itchy blue airplane seat without so much as a doctorate.

Fortunately for them too. Had they given her time to speak, she was sure she would have put Shakespeare's insults to shame.

But the entire thing was a very suppressed and controversial matter. In truth, their attempts had begun from the very moment she left the walls of Irving Academy, New York, an institution built to rehabilitate dangerous and uncontrollable Alices. After intense debate, she was granted time—some time, limited time—to enroll in the Massachusetts Institution of Technology in exchange for reluctant partnerships with American branches of renown Japanese corporations. It was either that or facing the wrath of a foreign, unremembered country. Eighteen-year-old Hotaru had been _far_from ready.

That was then.

Now was a completely different story. Deported with nothing but a small suitcase and waning shreds of dignity, Hotaru Imai, twenty-five-year old inventor, was finally returning to Japan.

_What an opportunity to have!_ her business associates congratulated. The country itself was a booming industry in its prime. Its workers, a plethora of manufacturers and big name companies, would give half a body to form a contract with _Hotaru Imai_—a name synonymous with God amongst everybody who was anybody affluent.

But she did not need bodies. Dissection was a messy form of art that people like her brother took pleasure in.

For her, Japan was just a country full of unfriendly faces and unfamiliar streets. It was a dreaded trip down the memory lane, a place where, upon arriving, the first thing that came to mind was how different it was from what she imagined and how she remembered it.

Hotaru found herself freezing for a moment as she glanced for the first time in years past the legal gate of Japan. A strictly black-haired, yellow-skinned animated swarm obscured most if not all recognizable features of the city. To be honest, security scanners looked like hell gates and when she was asked by a security guard to yield her baggage for inspection she would have slapped him away curtly.

If he had not stared at her with unfathomable curiosity.

She took the time to examine the man back. A tall, silver-haired, blue-eyed lad he was, dressed in the standard airline uniform but not really belonging in it. Her nose wrinkled as she accidentally sniffed his sharp and dangerous cologne. Incidentally, it was also the moment he snatched her passport from her hands and held it up, leading her eyes to his name tag.

Chiaki H.

For the five torturous seconds he held her life in his hands, Hotaru racked her memories for encounters with this stranger. As she plunged deeper and deeper into her high school days, it was evident that they had never met before.

A final rustling of papers indicated the end of his examination. He duly extended the passport her way, an ambivalent smile crossing his face revealing a single dimple on his right cheek.

"Welcome back, Imai-san."

* * *

><p>At times, she was wholeheartedly convinced that governments on both sides of the world were playing her for a fool.<p>

There was no other explanation for the embarrassing idiot who was wrestling the crowd while flaunting a huge sign with "Hotaru Imai" smack in the middle of it, capital letters, sharpie and all. As much of a turn off that was, she wondered if she should commend him for his valiant efforts, but considering that hers was the name being shamelessly paraded… Someone seemed to be set on putting lemons in her mouth late this evening.

"I believe it is Imai Hotaru," corrected the name holder, nearly dumbfounding him with her fluent English. "Surname, given name is the way the Japanese address others, correct?"

All was triumph, for the cardboard name plate finally came down, the holder staggering, "n—no. I just thought that—"

"You thought I forwent all aspects of Japanese culture after spending fifteen years in a country where I would not need it. I know. It is a common misconception."

While he was still stricken, she already began making her way towards the cab and the bus routes, apparently both occupying a total of one underground tunnel. She hated tunnels. Her accomplice's strides brought him close but not beside her. He remained an average of one point six eight seven feet behind the last two wheel of her suitcase, signifying his inferiority and inexperience at the job that he had likely involuntarily been signed for.

_Liabilities_, Hotaru grimaced as a cab came her way.

Her chauffeur to be was a helpful middle-aged man in overalls. Like many others, he had the unhealthy but addictive habit of sticking cancer sticks in his mouth. Leaning against his curb, he temporarily removed the stub to offer help with their luggage, to which she politely declined. Wrapping one hand around the handle, she swooped her suitcase up and wrung it back down into the trunk effortlessly.

He clicked his tongue in esteem. "Couldn't 'a done it better myself."

In almost no time at all, the stub was stomped on and discarded and they were both strapped in their respective seat belts. Her assigned companion's attempt to follow was cut short by Hotaru slamming the door shut on him. He jumped back, surprised. No sooner had he opened his mouth to protest than she had scrolled down the windows to offer him an explanation.

"I—"

"No," discouraged Hotaru, warding him off with a stern look. "You must know of my hatred for the government. I understand you were told to escort me to my hotel and I would allow it in any other situation. I am sorry. You will probably get scolded for this, but I do not want someone as earnest as you to get caught in the crossfire."

"But I—"

"No. Best that you ask for another task. Driver, 4891 Sakamoto Hotel."

"Yes'm!"

He cranked the car to drive and they sped towards the white square of light, leaving the stammering man to bite the dust. It was only for the best, Hotaru mentally assured herself, because from hereon out, things were going to get messy and they were going to get messy fast.

* * *

><p>A week.<p>

She had been given a week in advance to deal with the frustration, the disappointment. She had had a week to pack, a week to deliver solemn goodbyes, a week to somehow forsake everything she had ever known and cope with the five stages of grief that came with it. A week was not _nearly_ enough.

For instance, one could not reserve a suite at the Hilton Hotel a mere week in advance. So she had to settle for another hotel, one that a pleasing business partner and friend, Ross Anderson recommended.

The suite she was to reside in was far from shabby, but had yet to live up to its worth. After all, even a queen sized bed, a view over most of Tokyo, and tip top room service did not amount to much if peace, serenity and comfort avoided her in every corner of every room.

_I would have found better in Boston_, she thought bitterly as she sent an eight-legged mechanical spider to scout for hidden cameras and microphones. When it returned empty-handed, Hotaru crammed the spider into the outermost pocket of her suitcase. Her fingers met a sharp edge, and, with a slightly furrowed brow, she pulled out the traitorous object.

Her contact book. The old one, the one she used before all numbers either went straight on a Microsoft Excel worksheet or into her Blackberry contact list. It had been so neglected that the very first page stubbornly stuck to the back of the cover. Hotaru peeled it off with care. How long had it been since she last checked these numbers?

Irving Academy was by far stricter than Alice Academy in terms of contact with the outside world. Letters were screened so badly from both sides that every word from her friends and family sounded foreign. She had not talked to her parents ever since the day she escaped that hellhole and Subaru some two, three years ago. Her former friends were, needless to say, now strangers.

_And so will Ross, Janine, and Tom gradually become._

The thought terrified her. She dared not delve any further.

Curiously, the numbers had been scribbled down in a time where she still looped her twos and crossed her zeroes. Considering that this was far beyond the reaches of her memory, most if not all of of them ought to be out of commission. Except for perhaps one. Or two.

Under _My House _and _Mikan's House,_ there were two series of eleven digit phone numbers with matching area codes. Though Mikan Sakura was nothing more than a name and a far off memory, Hotaru was sure that her family retained the number, for when she attempted to dial it in her Blackberry the device pulled up Subaru's caller ID from two, three years ago. Since she had come this far, she figured there was no harm in going the extra mile. Her fingers pressed down on the call button.

Three soundly beeps filled the empty space before a soundly baritone graced her with a "hello?" She knew from memory that her father had a deep bass.

"Is Imai-san available?"

"I am Imai."

All air promptly deflated from her lungs. "Subaru," identities were validated on both ends as soon as she spoke his name. "This is a surprise. I thought you still lived in Tokyo."

There was a bit of uncomfortable shuffling on the other side of the phone. "I have been staying with mom and dad for a while now," he finally admitted.

"Why? Are they ill?"

"No!" he cried indignantly, "nothing like that. I don't recall ever telling you but Naomi and I formally divorced a few months ago. We've been separated for perhaps a year or two longer? She stayed in the apartment so I moved back to Nagoya."

Naomi. Subaru's wife—ex-wife now.

The first time Hotaru found out about their marriage was on the day of her graduation. They had already been married for four years then—a reckless union at the age of twenty two—and Naomi was pregnant with his child. Two, three years ago, Subaru mentioned his family again and though he was brief, he sounded fairly content with the life they were leading at the time. In between then and now, what had happened?

"Is this an issue?" he inquired further. He sounded irritated, although he probably did not mean to. Subaru never failed to manage an irritated undertone one way or another when he was talking to her via phone.

"What? You sound grouchy for a brother who is supposed to be missing his younger sister dearly. Do you not feel happy upon my return at all?"

Subaru muttered some bizarre comparison involving mothballs under his breath that made Hotaru roll her eyes in good nature. "It's not that I'm not happy," he finally sighed. "It's difficult to wrap my mind around it. Do you know how hard it was for me to put up with your antics when we were young? Not to mention you're inconveniencing everyone now that I know you'll be homeless indefinitely if I don't go to Tokyo soon. If I push a few appointments back, I might be able to reach you tomorrow or at the very least the day after. Where are you lodging right now?"

"4891 Sakamoto Hotel, suite fifteen sixty-one. The building is fairly noticeable, very elevated with a neon orange tangerine logo. Even at night you could see it from two blocks away."

When Hotaru first saw it, she thought it to be very peculiar. A Tropicana rip off business she could understand but what correlation did a hotel have to a kind of fruit that was not even mass produced in Japan? And Sakamoto Hotel Corp. turned out to be one of those companies that liked to "discreetly" advertise their logo wherever they could—on napkins, soap packets, towels, trays, almost like tacky product placement in a poorly directed movie. Her own suite came with no fewer than two tangerine shaped pillows and a beanie version of the said fruit.

"Oh, that. Yes, I know where it is. I'll pick you up and drive you over to the apartment."

She was confused. "What about Naomi-san?"

Subaru paused mid whatever he had been doing, almost making her roll her eyes again at her brother's forgetfulness. "Oh, Naomi," he deadpanned, "uh, she left for Kyoto a long time ago. She won over Hikaru's custody so I got to keep the apartment."

"Oh, so your son is with her right now." It was a little disappointing to say the least. Hotaru had been expecting to meet the tyke; it was one of the upsides to her so called homecoming.

Somehow, that turned out to be the unintentional detonation of a bomb that so very nearly destroyed her chances of settling in her brother's apartment. Almost immediately, heavy tension materialized in the air despite that Subaru was some five hundred miles away. His side of the phone was dead silent. She knew because her side of the phone was also dead silent. Since he was not going to do it, she decided to take the initiative to divert the subject herself, only to be cut off just as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Hikaru is at Alice Academy."

For a moment, Hotaru struggled to conjure a response. Peering through the window, her eyes found amongst the fuzz of Tokyo lights a large, dark rectangular patch of land contained behind ominous walls. "Ah," she finally managed. "Perhaps this is part of the reason why you divorced?"

One of the things Subaru had mentioned passively was that his wife was not an Alice. She never took a class on the dynamics of Alice and non-Alice relationships, but even a fool could piece together one plus one. Evidently, this was also so long ago that he completely forgot about telling her completely. Hotaru's question caught him so completely off guard this time that he really did steer the subject to their parents shortly after.

"May I speak to them?" she requested, opting not to press any further. Subaru was one of those people who could never be forced into revealing anything but would eventually open up himself if she left him alone long enough.

"Mother is visiting Sakura-ji and father is sleeping. Come to think of it, fine time you chose to call us. What is it, nine o'clock now?"

"Eight thirty eight and do not use sarcasm on me."

"I would have waited until tomorrow at least."

"Ridiculous. Tomorrow is a Tuesday; you would have been working. Do people not answer their phone calls most often in the evening?"

"Well, knowing you, you probably calculated the percentage chance of someone picking up."

Hotaru abstained from commenting. Her pride and dignity were battered enough as it is. She refused to her brother of all people revel in the fact that he hit the exact coordinate and sunk her battleship.

"Well I just want to know how they are," she retorted in a feeble attempt of retaliation, _so that I can stop picturing them as elderly people with blank faces._ "I suppose it was nice chatting with you, Subaru. No, I lied. That was sarcasm." Hotaru squeezed the back of her neck as she heaved a long sigh. "I have to call the government before the day is over. Got myself into a bit of a tight spot earlier when I ran from that rookie they sent my way."

"Poor rookie."

"Indeed, he was a pitiful thing. For the five minutes we went from the airport to the cab tunnel, not once could he summon the courage to actually walk alongside me. Or, you know, speak. He was so introverted I felt almost compelled to hold his hand as I would a four-year-old."

"Alright," Subaru half chucked, "goodbye Hotaru. I'll see you soon."

When she gently set the receiver down, she barely remained awake long enough to notice a tiny tangerine sticker on the side of the phone.

* * *

><p>"It is a pleasure to meet you, Imai-san."<p>

Silver hair. Blue eyes. Hotaru stared blankly at the hand in front of her.

"Why, yes," she stated with difficulty, gripping it tightly. "This is quite a surprise. When I heard that I would be meeting a representative, I did not expect it to be you, though you did make yourself quite known when we were at the airport."

"You don't sound so surprised, ma'am," Chiaki said, a faint smile forming on his lips.

To this, she simply pointed him to the chair opposite of her. A polite host, she asked if he would like her to order room service. A polite guest, he refused with the usual excuses: he had eaten before he came here, he was not hungry at the moment, his message was much too important to be interrupted for something as meaningless as food. They played their respective parts perfectly and amiably, each taking time to settle themselves in a comfortable position, not unlike the beginning of an intense face-off. He tugged at his hair. She shifted to make herself comfortable. And then it began.

All complacence evaporated shortly.

"Tell me," demanded Hotaru, entwining her bony fingers and placing them before her on the table, "is the job at the airport permanent or were you there for the sake of greeting me?"

"I am where I'm needed."

Unlike the other man, Chiaki was well-trained and well-prepared. His blue eyes, eyes the colour of the sky just as the last sliver of the sun disappeared over the horizon, gazed rather apathetically at her. Hotaru caught the statement he made from his lack of interest. The man pointedly showcased his experience with others who had come before her, letting her know that she was just as unimpressive as the rest.

When she said nothing, he droned on in a monotone, "well I'm here today to give a brief illustration of what your life will be like in Tokyo. Some of these—uh—restrictions may seem a bit unjust. It's just Japan, trying to secure their Alices like usual. You know how it is. I know how it. Alices are precious to governments, national treasure and the like."

With a very audible sigh, she leaned until she was touching the back of her chair. "Yes?"

"Well, first, upon your return to Tokyo, the Department of Alice Regulation and Control—ARC, as it's commonly known—came to a unanimous decision that it would be best if you do not leave the country again."

Well the good news was that he just stated exactly what she had already known. It was probably not Chiaki's intention to rub it in but Hotaru could not help but begrudge the man for doing it. Especially hateful was that he was probably forced to do for his job exactly what she was prohibited from doing, yet he still made it apparent in every way that he absolutely_resented_ the said job.

"You are encouraged to partake in as many activities within Japan as you wish. However, you should note that we keep a regular log of your activities. This includes when you access your bank account, what sales you make, what you buy, what corporations you make contracts with, the conditions of the contracts, and any involvement in the stock market if you so choose to invest in it."

Also anticipated. She actually expected something a little more extreme from ARC or whichever part of the government was responsible for Alice affairs. Hotaru opened a water bottle idly to occupy herself with something other than his monotone.

"We have granted many liberties, you see," Chiaki proclaimed, almost making her choke at the blatant lie. "It saddens me slightly to have to constrain a fellow Alice to such terms, but I'm afraid I do not have much say in the matter. You'll have to negotiate with a representative of ARC if you are unsatisfied with arrangements as of the moment."

About to bring the bottle to her lips, she paused midair. "You do not work for ARC?"

Chiaki snorted, offended, "of course not. Didn't I tell you that I am wherever I'm needed? ARC is just borrowing me for the moment, although if you have any complaints feel free to state them now because it'd just be inconvenient for everyone if you went downtown to their office to ask for an audience. The office is not there, by the way, in case you get any ideas."

Upon her silence, he decided to end their meeting by rising to his feet. The pleasantries were clearly lost between them, most evident when he showed himself out of her apartment without her escorting him. Minutes after he had gone, Hotaru finally turned her head to ascertain his absence. Shaking her head in disappointment, she took the twenty steps over to shut the door that he had left wide open.

Would it not be nice if everyone had the same mentality as Chiaki? Then there would be no one left to give a damn about what Hotaru did in this mediocre country.

* * *

><p>When Hotaru first stepped outside of her hotel into the huge city below in bright daytime, she felt like she was seeing sunlight for the first time. Little in the world was as invigorating as downtown Tokyo in the ready day. Hotaru loved the city. She always had. She loved the bustling cars and the busy people. She loved the lively food stands, the looming structures and the live broadcasts that circulated all the newest trends.<p>

With a pastry she purchased from Umenomiya's Bakery, she sat on a bench. Just by being there, a million underlying marketing strategies made their way into her greedy eyes. For the umpteenth time, she commended herself for her brilliant bout of genius. Cultural differences of eastern and western societies were ginormous. There were many successful commercials in Tokyo, Japan that certainly would have had quite the opposite effect had they been broadcasted in Times Square, New York.

Tossing her wrapper into a nearby garbage bin, the twenty-five-year-old woman leapt to her feet after seeing the replay of earlier advertisements. As she looked up, a large television screen faded from a Hyundai commercial to an album cover. _Era of Orange and Pink_, it was named. All the letters were spelled out with Sakura petals save the _O_, for which a bisected tangerine was used instead.

Again, the tangerines.

Apart from the album and Sakamoto Hotel, she also noticed a few other uncanny fruit placements. Tangerine balloons were common in vendors and trinket stores by the streets—family businesses—also displayed and sold a great deal of tangerine merchandise: rings, earrings, little cell phone charms.

The farther she strolled from the big corporate stores, the more tangerines seemed to show up. As Hotaru took the left route of a forked road, she began a mental count. With her hands in her pockets, she arrived at twenty three before walking absentmindedly into a small plaza that was strangely occupied with a mass of people.

A multitude of dark brown and black heads shielded everything from sight. At five foot two, Hotaru could not dream of getting a peek of the centre act in her current position without stilts. Some people were leaving though, creating spaces where they had been standing. Scrunching her body, she weaved through those small spaces until she found herself in the very front row, staring straight at the awe inducing figure.

Tokyo's citizens were mesmerized by a freelance chalk artist crouched on the floor. He was a filthy man, his forehead shiny with sweat and oily hair wrapped up in a bandanna. The art he created, however, was a completely different story. With hands as black as coal, he smudged a shade in a beautiful chalk painting of a vivid, three-dimensional tangerine that was accompanied by an erect vase full of cherry blossoms.

Suddenly, the man lifted his head to wipe his glistening, sweaty forehead. For one moment, he stared straight at her. His eyes were a vivid shade of crimson that aroused the strongest feeling of déjà vu in her tightening chest. As his expression slowly morphed into one of shock, Hotaru found herself giving an involuntary, strained gasp.

He looked like he was going to pounce on her so she clawed her way out of the crowd.

Amid the protests of irritation, there was a clear crack of chalk hitting pavement. The man excused himself. She could hear the loud rustling of baggy clothing close behind her as he tried to make his way past the very crowd he had gathered.

"Hey!" the gruff voice called out, but she pretended not to hear him and waved to a passing taxi.

As luck would have it, the taxi was occupied and thus drove on.

"Imai Hotaru!" he tried again, and she froze.

Slowly, Hotaru swiveled to meet a pair of feral crimson eyes, demanding some kind of recognition from her. She gave him none.

"I'm Natsume," the man urged. "Hyuuga Natsume?"

"I do not know who that is."

Thankfully, at that very moment the driver of a vacant taxi saw her beckoning hand and made her way over. Hotaru escaped the confrontation by quickly slipping in the back seat of the car. Natsume ran to the it, startling both women as he began yelling and barbarically banging his fists against the windows. As the inventor muttered her destination urgently, he yelled some more while making pointed jabs at the huge TV screen that returned to displaying _Era of Orange and Pink _for the third time.

She put a place to her temple in a vain attempt to shut out his fervent attempts at assaulting her even after the car started moving. Only when it gained momentum did he fall behind, first lapsing into a jog and then stopping completely. In the mirror, she could see his eyes fixated on the taxi all the way until they turned the corner.

Baffled and shaken, she pulled out her Blackberry to call an old friend that she often relied on during tight situations like these.

"Hello," she spoke in crisp English, "Ross? This is Hotaru. I am currently in Tokyo. I know, right? Truly among my kind." She got a chuckle for her sarcasm, for Hotaru versus Japan was a long running gag between them. "Before, when you came here you said that you made a few friends in the police forces. I cannot elaborate at this very moment but right now having a private detective would really come in handy. _Really._"

There was a pause of consideration as Ross ran through and filtered names in his mind. Hotaru knew him to be like her, a person who refused to settle for anything but the absolute best. An unconstrained smile grazed her lips as she recalled their unusual bonding many years ago in a time when they could only dream of the lifestyle and fortune they had now.

After much contemplation, he finally gave her a name and a number.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. How are your wife and children? I shall soon be sending them a few presents from Tokyo. Before you protest, I would just like to state that you have absolutely no say in this matter. It is decided. And no, you will not get anything from me before they do. Thank you once again for having my back. I am quite blessed to have a person I can trust as much as you, Ross. Goodbye."

With loosely crossed arms, Hotaru leaned her Blackberry against her chin while the world of tangerines whizzed by outside.

Hayami should be expecting a visit soon.

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><p>Thank you thank you thank you for choosing to read this story. It is my baby. I absolutely love it. Please please please alert, fave and review. It would make me the happiest girl alive.<p>

:D

-IndigoGrapefruit


	2. Sarcasm is the Language of Siblinghood

_Disclaimed._

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><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Two: Sarcasm is the Language of Siblinghood

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><p>Hayami, skillful private detective of Japan, did most of his business in the thirteenth room on the sixteenth floor of an all-purpose building situated at 5106 Furuta Street, four blocks south of Sakamoto Hotel.<p>

Hotaru wrinkled her nose as she entered. His office had a very stale odor and was in desperate need of scented candles. Stepping into the room felt like entering a sealed attic after decades. Visible specks of dust that floated in the air about her oscillated between glinting and disappearing as what dull light that made its way through the translucent curtains struck them from different angles.

Except for the path leading from the door to a photocopying room, there was no space in this crammed up office. The floor was covered with stacks and stacks of paper. Some yellowing plants were squashed up into a corner in a feeble attempt to make space. Against the far wall stood a very solid wooden desk with an armchair in front of it and a gaunt man behind.

Stepping into the empty armchair, Hotaru said crisply, "I expect that you know who I am and why I am here."

The only other person in the room nodded as if anything else would warrant a court case for a billion yen.

Hayami was not what Hotaru had visualized at all. For one, he was deathly pale. For another, the man had a habit of ducking his head to hide his eyes behind inch-thick glasses. The only thing she had been right about was his sense of style—simple and office orientated; he was clad in a simple blue and white lined button down shirt. There was nothing unique about him other than his incredibly frail looking build. Yet Ross Anderson said that he was one of the best.

"Very well, Hayami-san. I sought you out upon recommendation so I expect marvelous results. As for the fee… nothing short of two hundred fifty thousand yen, I suppose."

It was hard to tell, but behind his glasses Hayami's eyes seemed to augment to the size of baseballs.

Hotaru almost snickered at the mindset of middle-class citizens. "To start off, I have two simple requests. The first is to investigate who Hyuuga Natsume-san is and what he wants with me. I already gave you my name and number earlier so do not hesitate to contact me if—"

"Excuse me, Imai-san," spoke Hayami, causing Hotaru to irritably glance up mid-sentence. "You really don't know who Hyuuga Natsume is?"

The slight, hesitant pause and tremor in his voice indicated that he was awaiting kind of feedback. Hotaru allowed him a slight shake of her head.

Clearing his throat, Hayami continued, "but you two went to Alice Academy together."

She flinched ever so slightly at the name.

"I am an Alice too," he further elaborated, which did nothing to soothe her unease, "eight years your senior. I also participated in the revolt against Elementary Principle Kuonji just as you did."

Hotaru pressed her lips into a thin line. "Ah, yes. That…"

The Rebellion was the one haphazard event to ever be documented in Hotaru's memory. She had long given up trying to collect and make something of the jumbled snippets and blurs of unfiltered chaos. In fact, at this point, she was seriously beginning to question her underdeveloped ten-year-old brain's processing capability. Nothing about it ever made sense. There was a dreamy, evanescent to the entire catastrophe, as if there was no what and when but rather events seen through windows-like screens suspended in a whimsical void.

Everyone had been everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"It… it happened a long time ago." Hotaru cleared her throat abruptly. "Anyhow, all that is irrelevant in this day and age. I am more concerned with the present and why he would possibly want to speak to me now, after all these years."

Hayami nodded and halfheartedly fetched a pencil to start jotting notes, which, Hotaru noted to herself, if he _actually_ were a renown private detective, he should have done so from the very beginning.

Sharp violet eyes focused on the hunched figure that was quietly etching unreadable kanji on paper. "Well, it would be nice to hear about that sometime soon. He seemed rather fervent too the first time we met. I hope he is not always like that." The pencil faltered and Hotaru paused, but resumed once more when he continued on unfazed. "The second thing I request is an investigation on why in the world there are so many tangerines floating around Tokyo City. Personally, I believe it to be either an ingenious marketing strategy or a badly conducted conspiracy. Whatever it is, the entire thing seems to tied in with Hyuuga-san."

Hayami was silent for the longest time.

The little sounds, mundane sounds of unanswered questions reverberated around the room—the ticking of a clock and scrawling of a pen, the gentle spring breeze whistling through the cracks of the window, the rustle of Hayami's sleeves against the paper as he moved at a leisure pace. They were sounds of enigma, of the unknown. They made Hotaru's senses heighten and planted a small seeds of suspicion inside her mind.

"Is he setting up for something?" The words surprisingly escaped her mouth with ease, and she was suddenly convinced that Hayami also had something personal to do with the case.

His smooth etches broke off as she whispered the question. In a fidgety way, Hayami adjusted the bridge of his classes and raised his pencil an inch to his face, staring intensely at the tip as he replaced the snapped lead. The clickety-click of the pencil's mechanisms added to the collection of useless noises. A swallow, a bob of his Adam's apple, and then he lowered his head to the paper again.

Once more, silence filled up the chasm. Hotaru lips curled unpleasantly as she perused the office of information a second time. This was a secretive room; what came in never left, and what left would soon be forgotten. He never needed to bribe anyone. Silence would do that for him. Silence would get him the answers he wanted and it would also protect the information he held.

Hotaru broke this leverage, "because I do not have solid evidence of Hyuuga-san's affiliation with the tangerines, I am willing to treat the two as separate cases. Two hundred fifty thousand for each? And seeing as we are clearly at a loss for words, I think we can safely adjourn this meeting. Shall we bring out the contracts then?"

Wordlessly, Hayami bent to rifle through his desk before bringing out a gigantic white, D-ringed binder. He practically slamming it down on his mahogany desk. _Cases_, Hotaru saw the label as he set aside the cover. The private inventor licked his finger before flipping papers at breakneck speed, likely with the intent of keeping his other cases confidential. She was surprised though. From the point of popularity, he was definitely not just any normal person. Yet somehow this entire meeting had something completely contradicting to say.

As he drew out two sheets of paper, she decided to stop thinking about it and attribute his weird behaviour to the general eccentricity of Alices. Why had his skin gone so pasty from being cooped up all day in his office? Why did she have an continuous, unrelenting numbness in her heart? The answer was simple: they were aliens, Alices. Alices that were not normal and could never be.

She wrapped her fingers around a pen, the pen that he had held to place his signatures seconds ago. It was slightly warm. She glared at it, daring the pen to prove the notion that Hayami was a human, that Hayami had the same human warmth non-Alices possessed. The pen did nothing. And so she gripped it tighter, reading and rereading the entire page of font eight words before scribbling her consent at the bottom of two pages—one copy for him and one for her, for Hotaru did not approve of photocopied contracts or anything unauthentic in general.

"Well, the terms are now binding. As of now, you must update me every time you find out something relating to my cases. I understand that by company policy, violations can be settled by a court order that entitles me to twice the amount of money in my offer so—" she learned closer, keeping a blasé expression on her face prevent him from gaining any more leverage "—with that in mind, do you have anything you wish to tell me, Hayami-san?"

"That sounds like a threat of some kind, Imai-san," he sighed, avoiding her eyes in the guise of tucking the binder away in his drawer.

What was it that prevented him from speaking? Hotaru could not pinpoint his partiality to Natsume Hyuuga. There was only one thing she was sure of and that was that Hayami would stay on this subject no further until their next meeting.

She took a stand. "Decipher it however you wish. I will be taking my leave now. Good day."

* * *

><p>"Do not greet me with that sour look. It makes you seem impertinent." Subaru was all warmth and sunshine when he saw his sister for the first time in fifteen years.<p>

Before she could retort, he shook his head, whipping his windswept hair everywhere. Her own lips curled up in distaste as she was sprayed by millions of droplets of water from the early typhoon that her brother had been unfortunately caught in.

"I was just wondering what a vagrant was doing on such a prestigious floor."

He stuck up his bony nose. "Humph. You should prostrate to me for all things I do for you."

"Go to sleep," she growled, only to have him dump his jacket on her head. Even her brother was a good eight inches taller than her, though it seemed less when she first saw him because he slouched his body so much.

Hotaru scowled as she hung his trenchcoat on the rack while examining him thoroughly from the corner of her eye. He was setting aside his own suitcase, which was about half the size of hers. Other than being tall, Subaru was also much skinnier than one would expect a man of thirty-three to be. His jaw was no longer sharp but square-shaped and his face much wider. Though he had kept the round spectacles from when they were younger, the trademark purple Imai eyes behind them were much too hard and weary for his age.

A telltale sign of overstress.

Without another word, he flopped blissfully onto Hotaru's bed and pulled the duvet over his body.

Hotaru herself felt the powerful effects of jetlag shortly after. She knew she ought to get accustomed to Japan's time zone as soon as possible so she could actually get some work done during the day. If only there was anything actually appealing to keep her up. She did not want to watch a drama. Placing an order for internet was pointless the night before they checked out. There was a pool on the lobby but swimming was one of the few things Hotaru never had and never would enjoy doing.

Outside, the thunder rumbled. It looked like a nightly stroll was also out of the question.

Sighing, Hotaru gave up. She finally relinquished to her primal needs and blacked out.

* * *

><p>Hours later, her own duvet was yanked from her grasp. Always a light sleeper, Hotaru's senses were immediately stimulated after her body was exposed to the cool air of morning. She leisurely opened one drooping eye; Subaru was giving her a look of mixed disdain and morning grouchiness. Clutching her head delicately, the inventor dragged herself up into a sitting position.<p>

She turned to stare drowsily out the window. Last night's storm subsided into a light drizzle and a thick layer of mist that veiled the entire city. Illuminated by the sliver of sun peeking over a blurry horizon, it was a very tranquil scene.

Unfortunately, the Subaru of the morning seemed to have little appreciation for tranquil. "Let's go," he barked authoritatively.

Out the suite they promptly marched with their respective luggage in tow. Hotaru looked back at the tangerine for one last time as her brother waved over a cab. Against the pale blue of the morning sky, it stood with a looming presence that served as a reminder of her meeting with Hayami.

"Hurry up!" Subaru snapped.

Narrowing her eyes at it one last time, Hotaru boarded the cab following her brother.

Tangerines. Natsume Hyuuga. Now it became clear to her. Although she had seen many different variations of tangerines across the country, the one he had drawn was almost identical to Sakamoto Hotel Corp.'s logo. For the first time, Hotaru wondered if it was mere misfortune that a huge storm blew the masterpiece away the day after or if he had strategically timed it so.

This plague reeked of conspiracy. Too many tangerines were placed just out of the city's core, just out of the spotlight. The places they appeared in had relation to normal day life, as whomever put them there intended to subtly establish their presence in the back of the every citizen's mind. In the small roads she and Subaru were being driven through, Hotaru spotted more tangerines spray painted underneath bridges or roofs and in other nooks that were shielded from rainstorms.

"Why are tangerines appearing everywhere?" she eventually questioned, turning from the window.

The driver replied in a way that preluded a long tale: "Well, 'em tangerines 'ppeared ten years ago in graffiti. People say it had some'um to do with gang activity—markin' of territory? I dun believe it. There were police investigations seven years back and they didn't find 'ny signs of gang activity. Anyhow, in the past five the media and 'em huge companies picked it up. I say the price of tangerines in Tokyo inflated least seventy five percent since 'en."

She modified her voice, lacing it with fake curiosity to cover an undertone of suspicion that the taxi driver would not be able to pick out. "Does this peculiar symbol only appear in Tokyo or other cities as well?"

"Canna say for sure. I'ma Tokyo cab driver here. Dun get 'round much," he chuckled.

"Do you really have to ask about this?" Subaru piped up sharply. Hotaru was surprised at this sudden change in demeanor when he had been so much less stingy the night before, but she gave him points for being perceptive nonetheless. "Do these tangerines really concern you that much?"

"You have not heard news from customers?" Hotaru pressed on, ignoring her brother.

"Still the same intruding pest," muttered Subaru disapprovingly under his breath. "The symbol has not appeared up north or in any major cities I had business in. Don't go investigating every uncanny aspect of Tokyo and making more out of it than what it is. Have you ever heard of the saying 'let it be'? Some things are just the way they are; in the grand scheme of things, you can do little to change Tokyo's culture. What are you going to do once you find the source of all this? Erase them from existence?"

She can hear the underlying accusation in his heated spiel: _why are you so interested in the tangerines? What is your reason? _For Imais never acted without reason and she had sorely underestimated her brother by assuming that he would not say anything.

"I was just curious," she ensured with a tranquil smile, "since I saw quite a bit of tangerine merchandise in the last few days and I was wondering if I could make good use of all this."

He said no more, but judging from the foul aura he emanated through body language, her brother was not satisfied with her answer in the least. Subaru, in general, seemed mighty crabby since the beginning of the car ride. He stared resolutely at windshield wipers the whole time and did not uncross his arms once. The only times he spoke were to criticize Hotaru or give new directions to the driver.

She tapped her brother on the shoulder gently. "Any word from former classmates from Alice Academy?"

Without moving his body, he turned to her with a full on glare, as if to say, _what are you doing discussing these things in front of a non-Alice?_

"I am curious," she was getting tired of having to explain her reasons for asking every single question, like she was some cantankerous teenager and he was the principle forced to deal with her. "I have not seen them in a while."

"Neither have I," the annoyed edge in his voice was in no way disguised. "I only see Shuuichi from time to time and the rest not since two years ago."

"And Hyuuga Natsume?"

Something ever so little flashed inside of his eyes. At times, Subaru fumbled or twitched when he felt awkward, but as soon as the name left her lips he hardened into absolute stone, shoulders jerking perfectly in sync with bumps as the car tires grazed potholes in the pavement. "I have no clue what he's doing nowadays," drawled Subaru, "and I would not give a single yen to know."

"He is related to the tangerines," Hotaru informed in a whisper too quiet for the taxi driver to hear.

"Forget about the tangerines!" Subaru hissed. "They have nothing to do with you. Do not prod where your nose where it does not belong. As for Hyuuga, I care for him perhaps less than I care for you. He was always a troublemaker. It was enough that your best friend gave him another chance at life, but I feel zero sympathy for him if he is wasting his time on such childish antics."

"My best friend is Hertz, Janine," Hotaru stated slowly, carefully, a little shaken from his sudden outcry. "I believe I told you about her. She has nothing to do with Hyuuga Natsume."

He turned his head away from her, propping it on an arm that in turn rested on the window on the other side of the car. Though he tried his best to hide his countenance from her, she could see a clear reflection of his pensive face in the glass. "I am not talking about _her_. You had a best friend inside Alice Academy, a long time ago. It was that girl who caused all the ruckus."

Ah, _that_ best friend. Hotaru had but a general idea of Mikan Sakura inside of her head. She was a sweet and cheery girl. Her hair and eyes were both brown and her eyes were larger than average. Was she medium height? No, she was short. Or was she tall? The girl had been a mere one star—no, at one point, she had no badges.

She grimaced at the familiar throb that made its presence in the back of her head. Whether it was physical or psychological she did not know but her body was dead set on punishing her whenever she tried too hard to recall certain details. Sighing, Hotaru cushioned her pounding head with a hand. It was a dull irk, the irk of trying to solve an equation that was not equal.

In silence, the car parked in front of a quaint but large apartment building. Subaru paid the driver generously, hoping he would take a clue and not mention their conversation to any future customers. He extended a hand to Hotaru. Deciding to snob him for his crankiness, she slapped his hand away and stubbornly exited on her own side, the side facing the street.

Her brother was not impressed and he made it known to her, snorting, "if you want to die at the hands of your own stupidity, trust me, I have absolutely _no_ qualms. But whatever you do, you are not allowed to associate yourself with the likes of Hyuuga Natsume."

In a carefree manner, she ignored his words and dragged her luggage into the revolving doors of the building.

"He is not a good person and our parents would not approve of it," he droned on behind her. "They are already frail as is and you'd just take away more years."

Whipping her body back, Hotaru narrowed her eyes as she accused, "you told me mother and father are doing very well."

"Yeah, because I'm there," he scoffed as if talking to a child. "As if they would have any medical complications on my watch. Doesn't mean that they don't fret needlessly. Mother's an absolute worrywart. There was seldom a moment yesterday when she wasn't asking about you. She was worried about me as well, and somehow convinced that my train was going to crash and explode."

"Well I am sure she will be thrilled to hear that we are both alive and healthy. Besides, you do not intend to stay long." His suitcase had one third the volume of a cubed metre and he could not possibly fit more than ten outfits in there, not counting the toiletries.

"I'll be leaving this Saturday," Subaru informed as they arrived at his apartment. Violently jamming a key into the keyhole, he further warned teasingly, "do not destroy my apartment. I will take you to court."

He crossed the threshold before she could enter.

_Says a lot about the kind of person he is_, she mentally snorted, following close behind.

And she had thought that Hayami's office was dusty. It had _nothing_ on Subaru's apartment. They both coughed up a storm upon entering and she found it amazing that the air was even breathable. Subaru immediately rushed through the rooms, opening up windows while Hotaru remained in the foyer, almost tearing up. A quick perusal told her that a thin layer of dust coated every object in sight—not that there were many. Most of the furniture was either covered in a sheet of cloth or plastic, and even more dust flew into the air as Subaru uncovered them.

When enough fresh air got in, Hotaru gently shut the door behind her and Subaru marched into the kitchen.

"Naomi took the feather duster with her," he sighed after a series of clattering.

Vigilant as she was, Hotaru noticed that Naomi seemed to have taken most of the small objects. The only things laden around the apartment were empty shelves, tables and picture frames. There was even a round print on a carpet from a plant that used to sit there.

"This is hardly livable, Subaru," she told him, fetching two wet napkins out of her suitcase to dab at her eyes. "Your walls are yellowing."

"You think I don't know!" he exclaimed, popping his head out of the kitchen. Clenching a wet tissue, Subaru stared at the object in Hotaru's hand blankly before guffawing. Two siblings with the exact idea in mind. It was almost comical.

Now it was his turn to do scrutinize the room for what it had become. He flinched a little at the walls and a little more at the empty picture frames.

"She could have at least left a picture of Hikaru…" Hotaru almost did not catch the comment.

"Do _you_ not have a picture of Hikaru? He is your child too after all."

"Only ones of his early childhood," he informed somberly, tossing the tissue aside.

There was a large lump in his throat as he made his way over to a barren wall decorated with only a screw. Subaru was entranced by that spot. Even Hotaru had to admit that she had never seen her brother look at anything with the expression he had when he closed his eyes and placed a hand on that wall. "Here's where we hung our wedding picture." His voice, almost a whisper, was laced with nostalgia.

His eyes snapped open, and at that moment, Hotaru saw a man she did not recognize. The dull purple orbs, framed by subtle creases and heavy eyebags looked not at the wall but far beyond it, searching futilely for something. For an incandescent moment, she thought she saw several flickers of mixed emotions within his iris.

Then, Subaru took his hand off the wall and he looked so stoic Hotaru wondered if she had imagined the entire scene.

"I am tired," he sighed, dragging his feet in the direction of the bedrooms. She did not follow him.

Instead, she explored the house, pulling the remaining sheets off of every piece of furniture and dumping them all a corner of the room. Since she suspected her brother to be hopeless at interior decorating, Hotaru could only presume that Naomi had good taste. The questionable square in the middle of the room turned out to be a magnificent glass table. The shelf also seemed to be made of genuine wood—maple, from her experience. Since the couch with the atrocious floral pattern was the only shoddy piece of furniture around, Hotaru deducted that it must have been the one thing that Subaru was allowed to pick out and solemnly vowed to replace it as soon as possible.

Leather would do very nicely.

The pantries, cupboards and refrigerator were all emptied out and though there was an old, corded phone, it had no service. A lot had to be done if she was going to take permanent residence in this space. She and Subaru would need to go shopping for a whole bunch of supplies, not to mention the tedious legal procedures that inevitably followed. The mere thought brought a long, heavy sigh to her lips.

For today, though—or until Subaru woke up again—there was only one more task to do.

She dragged her suitcase to the couch and took a seat. Somehow everything she valued was crammed into this point six seven square metre box of space. Again and again, the thing reminded her of how nomadic and uncertain her life was. Hotaru did not hold much dear, objects or people, but the little she did she usually kept for a lifetime. Packing was not an issue anyways, considering that she and Janine had moved from place to place more than a few times during their university days before settling in a surprisingly comfy basement.

One by one, she drew items out of the suitcase. Before leaving America, she and Janine spent an entire night packing and grouping all of her things together. Everything was already organized and all that was left was for Subaru to give her word of where she could put her stuff. Since he was resting at the moment, she placed everything on a vintage tea table—another excellent choice by Naomi. Or so she assumed.

As she reached into the suitcase once more, Hotaru found a wrinkled plastic bag with all kinds of sharp objects inside. Furrowing her brows slightly, she lifted it to find the sack of small keepsakes and trinkets Janine and her boyfriend Tom coerced her to bring with her across the Pacific Ocean.

Rolling her eyes at the thought of their persistent faces, she opened the bag to sift through for things to throw out. There were endless magnets and keychains she bought from different states while on business trips, all of which were unneeded. There were some small objects Janine and Tom gave her as souvenirs, all of which she decided to keep but would never look at again. Then there was a rather striking key that she had no recollection of whatsoever.

Hotaru pocketed it as a reminder to ask Janine later.

* * *

><p>It was not that she had forgotten overnight what Tokyo was like. It was just that Hotaru never really brought it upon herself to observe the differences until that day she and Subaru stepped, for the first time, inside a seven-floored shopping mall.<p>

As they rode up the escalators from the toys section to the furniture section, Hotaru's hair tingled at the outlandishness of her surroundings. She found it hard to believe that in less than two minutes, they seem to have moved from _Toys R Us _to _Ikea_, but it was certainly nothing new to Subaru so she stuffed that thought to the back of her head. But when, for the umpteenth time, Hotaru looked down into a crowd of fair and dark haired, yellow skinned people, it was hard for her to keep her mouth shut any longer.

"Why is Japan so racist?"

Subaru looked at her funny. "What?"

"A normal country consists of Hispanics, Caucasians, Natives, African-Americans, _and _Asians," insisted Hotaru. "_Everyone_ in Japan is Asian."

Subaru looked at her funny. "Aren't you Asian?"

And that was the end of the subject, for they had arrived and he was insistent on actually surveying furniture instead of trying to decipher her weird comments. But, Hotaru thought as she looked at her brother pitifully, what use was it to raise the subject to Subaru? He had never been to other countries. He would never know about the culture she grew and adapted around. Heck—he probably still thought all Americans had blue eyes and blond hair.

_Janine would have easily agreed with me. _The thought came to her mind without warning before she forcefully swatted it away, eyes accidentally catching a nearby mirror as she looked up to search for her brother. Brushing her hair behind her ear, Hotaru stared into violet eyes that darkened at her own miserable state. What use was it to think of something she no longer had? As if she would see her best friend again—not for more than a few months at a time anyway.

_I am an adult now_, she reminded herself, staring resolutely into the broad back of her brother's figure. _I must do what I must do, alone or not_.

With faster strides, she easily caught up to him, although judging by the length of Subaru's legs, he could easily out-walk her if he tried. "The easiest arrangement, as I see it is to keep the apartment under your name. I will pay monthly rent and it will work to both of our advantages," _since you clearly cannot let go__ of what you had… _"since I do not plan on staying long."

He fingered the price tag of a leather sofa that Hotaru set her eyes on as she made the proposal. It was white, very firm and square. Square was good. Square did not come with sentimentality and nostalgia; Tom's sofa, where he, Janine and Hotaru spent a good many of their nights, was round and velvet, in no way the same. Square was exactly what she needed. Square was a new start.

When he flipped over the price tag, the expression he had on could only be described as one of disgust. A six digit price tag, Hotaru merely shrugged it off before expressing her approval for it.

"What?" he exclaimed, staring at her in disbelief, "you would spend thousands upon thousands of yen on a mere piece of furniture?" He turned back, stared at the numbers a little longer and then shook his head in resignation. "Well, I suppose it's _you_ after all."

Assuming Subaru to have told her off for being materialistic, Hotaru wrinkled her nose in displeasure. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

He threw the price tag aside and sighed something long and heavy. At the time, Hotaru never did understand why he suddenly imposed that abrupt a subject change, or why he was so adamant on finding faults in everything she did. She merely attributed it to Subaru's incapability to become accustomed to physically being around her and seeing all her habits and quirks as opposed to just communicating over the phone. At the time, the end of the long sigh was the beginning of a rather philosophical question.

"There was a professor who once asked me if, in algebra, _x_ and _y_ represents anything of real, sentimental value to me."

This time it was Hotaru's turn to stare at him weird. She blinked blankly, attempting to figure out where his train of thought was going or where it even came from. "They are variables," she stated slowly.

He turned, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and quirked an eyebrow up at her comment. Befuddled at his reaction, Hotaru did not know whether to frown in disapproval or demand that he tell her what was going on at once. She sucked in a sharp breath, unable to find any hidden tricks in his eyes. Her body tensed like a cat waiting to pounce and her teeth ground against each other inside her suddenly dry mouth.

Because at the time, she did not trust him enough to believe that this was not a test.

"You'd fail—"

A familiar shell-shocking feeling traveled from her toes all the way up into the tip of her hair. For just a tiny moment, she wondered if she was going to have a public breakdown. A thousand horrible images flashed in front of her eyes. Irving Academy. The Memory Project. The nefarious motto that had to be chanted before breakfast every day, like a wretched school anthem: _"you're worthless__ if you fail. You're absolutely _worthless_ if you—__"_

"—as a doctor, and thank heavens you never went down that route."

She shook the last shivers off of her arms, quite sure that she was feeling the aftermath of an earthquake or something of the like.

"It's quite dandy to think of everything as variables, because variables don't matter. But you soon find yourself using breathing intervals to calculate your patient's time of death. And you soon find yourself unwilling to try to save someone dying right before your eyes, because the likelihood tells you that you are too late."

His hand flew towards her suddenly, fingers latching a tight grip around her head. His fingers dug into her scalp in a skull-bruising way. If Subaru was trying to entertain himself by testing if he could lift her entire being in a crane-like manner, it was in no way entertaining to his sister.

"Hands off," she snarled most venomously.

He, being a despicable, uncivilized _arse_, growled from deep within his throat, "and the moral of this story is to lighten up, little sister, because no one likes talking to a robot."

* * *

><p>Subaru and Hotaru's interaction may seem like character development, but it's actually important. Very very important. Wink wink. ;)<p>

Thanks for reading! Please review, fave, alert!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	3. Whatever Lets Her Sleep at Night

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Three: Whatever Lets Her Sleep at Night

* * *

><p><em>Cold.<em>

_Her fingers were cold. The metal was cold. But she would not let go of it. The trophy—pure gold, _tainted_ gold—had made quite a prominent dent in her king sized bed. But she would not let go of it for a single night, no matter what, because it was hers. She had won. She had been the best. She had been _worth_ something._

Hotaru awoke stunned, in cold sweat, to find her body instinctively curled in that horrifically familiar position. But instead of cold, solid metal, it was a bundle of sheets she pressed to her heart in fetal position. Shaking them off, she sat up. A cross of fury and self-loathing surged through her veins when she examined her hands, only to see that her fingers were twitching, still trying to hold onto something that had been long taken from her.

She shut her eyes, finding consolidation only in the memory of Janine's soft smile and kind words, in her warm touch as she wrestled that huge block of gold from Hotaru's fingers.

_"You don't need this anymore, Holly. There's no sense in carrying something that heavy across the country."_

And so, what little she had left of her life in Irving Academy was auctioned off to a man who probably melted it down and made it into jewelry. After all, no one had any need for a huge chunk of metal with her name and a big one scratched into it—no one but her. She learned the hard way the consequence of having lost something so important, something she had been so dependent on.

It was withdrawal.

Not just withdrawal, but withdrawal of the worst kind. Like a heroin addict who had been denied her daily dose, she sat on her bed, baggy-eyed and pasty- skinned, and, with her arms locked around her knees, rocked herself back and forth while whispering words of empty comfort. She was an Alice, a national treasure. She was Hotaru Imai. She was not worthless.

On some days it got better.

On some days it got worse.

But no matter what, Janine's reassuring hand was always there to clutch hers, if Hotaru would only reach out across the empty space between them. More often than not, she did not. It might have been less arduous to take the easier way out, but she knew all too well what happened when you got too attached to something. Or someone. So she stayed awake alone on those nights while Janine slumbered like a baby. The comfort came from knowing that anytime it got too hard to bear, she could just reach an arm over and shake awake the brunette. Not that she never did, because she was Hotaru Imai. But it was that comfort that solidified the trust that became the foundation of their friendship.

Scowling, Hotaru slapped her hand against the bedpost, wincing at the pain it brought her. It did stop the clenching, though, and that was all she wanted so she forced herself up to fetch some ice from the fridge.

As she roamed the space, it suddenly dawned on her how empty the entire apartment was now that Subaru had left. On one hand, the space was free for Hotaru to revamp. On the other hand, she had no idea what she wanted to do with the place other than to turn it into her workshop. Having lost most of her machines to strict airport security, the prospect of that idea was looking bleak.

At least the apartment was somewhat livable now, even though it took an entire week of painful procedures. When Subaru left, this place had practically nothing—no cable, no phone service, no Wi-fi. Only water and electricity had been provided. The only solace was that Subaru already transferred the billing to her bank account, leaving her free to do as she pleased.

And still, he gave her several orders before he left: "you will, under no circumstance, even lay a finger in my son's bedroom. Do not even breathe the air that is in there." The statement was reinforced with an icy glare and a following of, "and you will not touch the space where _that_ was."

She knew he was talking about the wedding portrait.

So a week later, the two forbidden spaces were the only things Hotaru left unmodified. She did, however, succumb to her own overactive curiosity and decided to investigate the mysterious room.

The room that belonged to her nephew was situated at the very end of the corridor, adjacent of the bathroom. By far, this was the smallest bedroom of the house, about two thirds of Subaru—Hotaru's own bedroom. Its walls were painted a dim yellow that was very pleasing to the eyes. Three toy cabinets were placed consecutively from smallest to biggest between the far wall and a bed. The bed was only a single yet it took up most of the space, the rest occupied by an old, forgotten cradle that was also no doubt Hikaru's.

It was obvious why Subaru had issued an order for the room to be left untouched. Hikaru's room contained what little of her nephew left in the reachable world. Without it, he might as well become another name. Time tended to have that effect.

Feeling rather oddly at peace, Hotaru gently shut the door so that time would freeze in this little room for just a bit longer.

* * *

><p>Still rather grumpy from the morning's episode, she decided to redirect all her frustration to Hayami, who clearly made no attempt to contact her though it had been a week since their last meeting. Hotaru was by no means an impatient person. Years of experience with the stock market tamed her anticipation and frustration. For one who had been confined for a lifetime, another week or another month really made little to no difference in the big picture. Only, on this particular morning, her chagrin from all the episodes—with Subaru, with Natsume, with Hayami himself—conglomerated into one ginormous ball of pent up negativity that threatened to annihilate everything in its path.<p>

Hayami just happened to be the unlucky victim.

Hotaru left him three angry messages instead of the usual one and when all three had gone straight to voice mail, she threatened a revisit _very_ soon, though when she did not specify. Let him wonder, shudder in fear of a temperamental woman.

Then, because she was fed up with her hermit-like lifestyle, she relieved her fingers of the itch to call a certain bright eyed brunette who was probably asleep soundly back in Boston. The twelve hour time difference was almost an insult to injury on top of every other shackle that had been latched onto her.

"Hello?" The soft, soothing mezzo-soprano never failed to bring a surreptitious twinkle to the inventor's eyes. Evidently, her friend had indulged in the guilty pleasure of late night movie runs once again.

"Greetings, Janine."

"Holly!" she exclaimed at once, using the English name Hotaru had taken on in America. "I was beginning to think that you forgot me! Tell me all about Tokyo. I can't believe they sent you back! How come you never applied for to be a citizen all these years?"

Janine, being the non-Alice that she was, did not know about Hotaru's predicament and the circumstances that brought her to America. She knew that Hotaru was there on a scholarship and while there, developed a twisted attachment to a trophy she had won in a prestigious high school during her first year there. The rest of the inventor's adolescent life, she let Janine's imagination fill in, for the woman was much too considerate and compassionate to ever dig skeletons out of the closet.

It was one of the things Hotaru loved most about her.

"I have," the inventor replied softly, drawing the thick and elaborate vintage beige curtains aside to let in a little bit of light; it was now nearing noon, which would be around midnight for Boston. "I was rejected. No matter. Tokyo is not quite like Boston, but it has treated me well so far. Thanks to my brother, I already have a permanent residence. How is Tom?"

Tom was Janine's boyfriend of three years. She and Hotaru often crashed at his place because his roommate, a very gregarious chum, always had one friend or another over to add to the merriment. If they were not at his house, he was at theirs and the three of them often just lounged around and casually chatted or watched movies on a lazy afternoon. There would be no more of that now. Janine would be slightly happier anyways without a third wheel in her relationship.

"Tom," sighed her best friend dreamily. "He proposed to me, you know? Just last week. And we moved out, he and I. We have a place of our own now, since his roommate's got a brother who's coming to live with him next year. We're getting married in six months, can you believe it? I was planning on making you my maid of honour."

She could not stop her lips from forming a borderline wistful smile. "That is absolutely wonderful Janine. Congratulations. I am truly sorry for being confined in Japan."

"You _have_ to get your butt back here. I won't let my wedding go without you." There was a little too much eagerness in her voice for Hotaru's liking. She wished, not for the first time, that somehow Janine could just understand her without long explanations of Alices, conspiracy, and secret governmental affairs.

"I cannot leave the country."

"Why? Does this have to do with your scholarship?"

A weary sigh escaped Hotaru's lips. "I was sent to America as retribution. Back in Japan, my family and I participated in a revolt against a school stringently run by government officials. They deemed me as dangerous and sent me away to save the burden of dealing with me personally."

There was a pause in which she assumed Janine was busy fitting together pieces of a puzzle. "And so you ended up at Irving Academy," she confirmed in a near whisper.

"Yeah." Hotaru gently cleared her throat of a bundle of phlegm that chose to make its presence. "I had a dream the other day."

There was a sharp inhale on the other side. As expected, Janine had immediately deducted the contents of the said dream and the anguish hidden behind her deadpanned words. Hotaru almost shook her lowered head with a smile; they really had been too close for too long. "Are you okay?" Janine was nothing short of tentative.

"Of course. Why would I not be?"

"Sometimes I really wish you would just get someone to take care of you."

What was left of her smile disappeared completely and Hotaru sharply warned, "Janine, we talked about this."

To that, she got a small, but audible and probably unintentional sigh. "I know, Holly. I have no idea why you're so set against having any kind of romantic relationship, male or female—" her voice had a teasing tone to it "—but I'm still convinced that you should at least have a flatmate. Oh, I do sound like an overbearing mother, don't I? Can you really blame me, though? With our history…"

"The apartment is not mine. It belongs to my brother."

"You're not living with him?" Janine was surprised.

"He tends to my parents in a small town up north."

"Mama's boy, is he?"

"Janine…" The idea of Subaru being a mother's boy, or anyone's boy really, somehow did not settle well with Hotaru. In fact, she preferred not to dwell on her brother in general seeing as their last conversation resulted in nothing short of angst. As she cringed, her fingers habitually found that notch of skin in between her eyebrows. Hotaru massaged it, body loosening as the dreadful idea left her mind. "You have never even seen my brother."

Laughter erupted from the other side of the globe. "I look forward to that, no doubt. Are you sure you can't make my wedding? He can be your plus one."

"No doubt about it. I leave Japan and somebody will end up gunning me down with a bazooka."

"If you're sure…"

Hotaru's fingers froze mid-circle as she suddenly remembered the key that she had been meaning to ask Janine about. "Wait. I have a question. You and Tom packed that bag of trinkets, right?"

"Mmhm."

"Well I know you two packed me a bag full of magnets and some other useless decorative trash, but what was the key there for? The one with the inch long tip. Its head is circular with a diameter of three quarters of an inch and there is a rectangular hole a fifth of an inch from the top. I do not ever recall us using a key like that."

"Thorough description," she teased. It had always been a mutual understanding between the both of them that Hotaru's mind worked quantitatively whilst Janine's worked qualitatively. "But yeah, I can't say that I remember a key of any sort. You never kept a personal diary and it's certainly not our house key or the mailbox key. Who knows? Maybe Tom had a brainfart when he chucked it in there."

Retrieving the key from her pocket, Hotaru held it up so that sunlight reflected off of its tip, shining light on the details of the miniature dents and bumps. The key itself was golden, small, something easily missed but somehow very intriguing once she paid it due attention. She rolled it in between her fingers, feeling the texture of the keyhead. It was not elaborate. It was not antique. But it had an air of mystique around it.

"You know," Janine continued, "I bet some girl dropped it at Tom's by accident and he just flung it into the nearest plastic bag. He _was_ half drunk when we packed that after all."

"And you?"

"Left him unattended for a second. Bad judgement on my part. Sorry." Hotaru could just see the noncommittal shrug Janine would have given her had they been talking face to face.

It was nice to know that her two solid friends held her in such high light.

"You know what? I do not even want to talk about it."

Janine chuckled, "don't brood over the key any longer than necessary, Holly. I know what you're like when your curiosity gets the best of you."

Hotaru scrutinized the key one last time, deciding that there was nothing particularly special about it after all. With a shrug, she chucked it into one of her living room drawers.

* * *

><p>Wet hair, clad in an old MIT hoodie and pajama pants, Hotaru laid tummy flat on the bed that formerly belonged to Subaru. To her left laid an haphazard array of empty picture frames, all left behind by the ex-wife, Naomi. Since Naomi did relinquish them, Hotaru figured that she might as well put them to good use. After all, she could not stand the apartment looking anything short of impeccable, and the empty frames made her cringe every time she perused her living space.<p>

She had finally gotten around to sorting through the photo albums. All her life, Hotaru only carried three. They were plain, sensible photo albums, each a different preliminary colour. Blue stored memories of her early childhood. Yellow held pictures of Irving Academy. Red was from her university days and in terms of thickness, by far surpassed both the blue and yellow combined.

It was that album that she sorted through first, and while she did so, saw many pictures with many people taken on orientation day—people she never really talked to again. Towards the end, though, the photos mainly consisted of the inventor along with one other woman and sometimes another man.

The unquestionable face of Janine staring back at her lightened the apartment and made Hotaru feel slightly less lonely. Back in the day, Janine had a habit of wearing her hair in ringlets. The occasion when the picture was taken was no exception. She had been wearing a simple cardigan—her favourite cardigan—paired with tight white jeggings and the hugest hoop earrings to ever exist.

Those earrings were her favourite pair, having matched her hazel eyes perfectly. Hotaru remembered specifically picking them out herself, although not with the initial intention of getting them as a gift. The first time she saw those earrings, she was nothing short of shaken. The peculiar colour aroused a pang of nostalgia that pierced straight through her numb little heart. At the time, she had still been shaken over the aftereffects of Irving Academy's schooling methods and was willing to hold onto anything apart from trophy that contained sentimental value. Hotaru purchased them without a second thought. A while later, though, she had found Janine's affinity for hoop earrings and happily handed them over. It was at this point that their friendship officially established.

Carefully picking it up by the edges, Hotaru fitted the photograph into the best frame.

Now that the red album was done and over with, she was faced with the dreadful ordeal of combing the other two albums.

Irving Academy was painful and deadly competitive. What little pictures she had taken were with students that would have ripped her throat out had it ensured them first place in, well, anything really. And a few of them actually did try. Glassy eyed, Hotaru flipped the pages of the yellow album with vengeance. Each peer she saw only eked her hatred of the place, and by the end of it she gave herself a pat on the back for somehow managing not to burn the album.

What set her off completely was the last picture of the album.

Hotaru recalled that event as if it were yesterday. In this picture, she held up a huge, golden trophy. _Hotaru Imai. 1st Place._ The cameraman had refused to take the picture until Hotaru smiled satisfactorily. Even though her mouth curved upwards, her eyes were completely devoid of happiness. This was the only picture of Hotaru in her freshman year of high school, when she placed first in a contest of innovation for her invention of a machine that enhanced normal human memory to almost photographic.

The Memory Project.

Scowling, she slammed the yellow album shut, vigorously shoving it off to one side.

After seeing that, she was not in the mood of looking over photos anymore. The only album left was the blue album which had not been opened in eleven years.

It was hard to decide which she hated most—Alice Academy or Irving Academy. The suffering she had at Irving Academy was akin to child abuse, but the suffering at Alice Academy… it _was_ child abuse. Unadulterated child abuse.

Alice Academy was the reason for her anguish—_all_ of her anguish, because it was for Alice Academy that Hotaru had come up with the idea of the Memory Project. It was for Alice Academy that she had been whisked halfway across the globe. It was for Alice Academy that she and her brother, and a bunch of eleven year old children had sacrificed their childhoods. It was all for the good of the academy.

And that was why despite the trophy, despite her twisted perfectionism ways, the Memory Project—and by extension Irving Academy—was a blessing in disguise. Because if she had not resorted to using herself as a test subject, she would still have memories of her early childhood. She would still live doused in hatred and eager for revenge. But she had forgotten. And the pain had numbed. That was all that mattered.

The album sat there, awaiting her touch, innocent-looking yet as lethal as the flowers of belladona. Hesitantly, Hotaru drew closer, knowing that this could be her undoing but reluctant to stop all the same. She needed that little peek. Just one peek. She could not help but think that something should be different now that she was back in Japan. Something should be different now that she was a full fledged twenty-five-year-old adult, not an eleven-year-old child.

A kid could run away from problems, but it was foolish for a grown up to fear the past.

With a wavering resolve and numb fingers, Hotaru apprehensively lifted the leaden cover. The blue album had more photos than the yellow; her love for photography diminished as she grew.

The first photo was a class photo. Little kids lined up in rows while a blond teacher stood to the very right. Hotaru saw a slightly less phlegmatic, miniature version of herself in the second row, five to the left. This was her very own class picture from fifteen years ago. And it was full of unfamiliar faces and innocent children ignorant of the doom that would soon befall upon them.

After turning the page, she came upon a boy in a Snow White outfit. He had a few cowlicks, evidence of a valiant struggle with whomever decided to impose the scandalous outfit on him. It was too bad he lost. The expression on his face was absolutely priceless.

In the adjacent photo, there were three girls in front of a huge, blossoming Sakura tree. Hotaru herself was in the center. The girl on the right was a disagreeable looking twerp with a questionable hairstyle. And the other one—

The other was Mikan Sakura. She was sure of it.

Hotaru studied the girl closely. It was by Mikan's pigtails that she first recognized her former best friend. Mikan's hair was a similar shade to Janine's, perhaps only one shade lighter. The ten-year-old's face, in any case, was very corpulent but Hotaru almost could not tell because her cheeks were so stretched out by her smile.

Despite that, Mikan Sakura's eyes were the real defining feature of her face. When the picture had been taken, the girl with pigtails stared straight at the lens. Now, it looked like she was staring straight into Hotaru.

Suddenly, the smile did not look all that happy anymore. It was as if Mikan was accusing her, accusing the inventor of forgetting her bright-eyed friend.

Hotaru closed the album and set it down.

* * *

><p>The second visit to Hayami's office was the result of one grumpy inventor waking up and then suddenly deciding that there was nothing better to do in this city. In retrospect, it was not really Hotaru's fault that things turned out the way they did. Rather, it was nobody's fault but rather the end result of a long string of coincidences all spiraling out of control. Hayami should not have withheld information from her. He should have known that she would drop by sooner or later. The receptionist should have been a little tighter on security. Hotaru need not have been so hasty.<p>

On the inevitable day that the violet-eyed inventor marched back into the 5106 Furuta Street building, she was extremely disappointed in both Hayami and Ross, the former for not doing his job properly and the latter for giving the former such high praise.

In her disgruntled state, she radiated an aura of prideful and businesslike dignity that could be unmatched by no other. When Hotaru marched into the building, not only the doorman, but pretty much every person in the lobby at the time thought upon sight that she just _had_ to be a VIP. Her pencil skirt, crisp white blouse, sleek blazer and no-nonsense stride certainly did not suggest otherwise. Many pairs of eyes strayed to catch a glimpse of the bedazzling woman's face as she approached the receptionist.

As young as Hotaru was and possibly younger, the receptionist, Hiromi as her name tag stated, tugged at her loose braid nervously. At first glance, Hotaru almost felt pity for the young girl. It looked like her first day on the job and the smile she donned, though practiced, was at best nervous.

"Hello miss! How may I help you today?"

Hotaru herself smiled back slightly. It would not do for others to think that she was completely closed in. From various reliable studies of human behavior by renown psychologists, it was said that people had a tendency to lower their guard in the presence of someone who appeared amiable.

"Greetings. I am a client of Hayami-san," she informed, for she knew better than to divulge her name freely. "Is he available at the moment?"

"Do you have an appointment with him?"

"No. You see, he has neglected to call me since our meeting over a week ago and I want to check in to see the progress he has made on our case since." She wondered if she should hint that she was offering a hefty amount of money. It did not seem necessary, however.

"Okay," chirped the woman brightly. "Just let me have a second and I'll see what I can do."

Hotaru waited patiently as Hiromi flipped through the various stacks of paper that sat on top of her desk. It seemed that she had underestimated the receptionist. If nothing, she was at least diligent. The young woman pulled out miscellaneous sheets here and there and gathered them together. After a few minutes, she managed to put together a folder of all relevant files on Hayami.

"I'm sorry, but Hayami-san is booked until twelve. At noon, he has a half hour lunch break before attending to his next client. And, oh dear, it seems that he's booked for the afternoon as well as Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday."

She gave Hotaru an apologetic look.

Hotaru did not know whether Hayami had a plan to keep her at bay by filling up all his appointment slots or if he had seriously been so busy that Hotaru was pushed to the back of his mind. Either way, she refused to let him get away with this trickery so easily.

"I am afraid that will not do," she half growled, switched to her domineering voice. "I am a very busy woman and I expect my appointment _today_. It is Hayami-san who has neglected to call me. I barely squeezed time out of my schedule to check in with him. Saturday is not a good time for me. My entire week and weekend is occupied and this case really cannot wait any longer."

Naturally, she had nothing planned for Saturday. Sure a few business companies had called and made offers, but Hotaru expressed her disinterest quite eminently. The excuse she used was that she needed to get a few personal matters out of the way before making any major decisions. The reality was that she was taking a well deserved break. Fending off government personnel had been an arduous task for the past seven years, especially when they sadistically conspired with major corporations to saddle Hotaru with as much work as possible.

At least she made a fortune off of all that.

"Well I-I suppose we could squeeze a short session with you in Hayami-san's break. It _is_ his fault after all for neglecting to call you…"

Amused that she had reduced this diligent worker into a muddle of nervousness, Hotaru watched with jaded eyes as Hiromi scurried to the phone to make a quick call to Hayami. Barely a minute passed before she set the receiver back down. Surprisingly, it seemed that Hayami put up little to no resistance. There was no yelling to say the least, not that that gaunt, ghastly excuse of a man would ever yell. It was just too out of character.

"Well, Hayami-san managed to squeeze you into his schedule. Your appointment with him will take place during his break, in five minutes. Meanwhile, feel free to take a seat in our lounge."

Flashing a small, contemptuous smile back, Hotaru waved away the woman's suggestion, choosing in lieu to make a turn for the elevator.

"Where are you heading?" she could hear Hiromi's shrill voice exclaim.

It was too late. The button had been pressed and the elevator, conveniently on ground floor, opened its doors to welcome her in. All Hotaru had to do was to raise a deaf ear to the other woman's protests, a laughably easy task. It sure did not look as if anyone else was going to restrain her and although Hiromi seemed rather frantic, she stayed rooted to her spot behind that rather huge receptionist desk so Hotaru knew she was going to let it go anyway.

Unlike the last visit, where the elevator made as many stops as a bus traveling through New York City, it only stopped once this time.

On the fourth floor, she saw a rare specimen that seemed to be almost extinct here in Tokyo. A blond stranger with a warm smile stepped in and Hotaru could not help but give a small smile back. He was the first Caucasian person she had seen up close in _ages_. She could not help but notice that when he first saw her, his azure eyes widened just a smidgen.

Hotaru liked his eyes. They were quite a nice, crisp shade of blue, like the Snow White boy's in the picture.

Come to think of it, a lot of his features were similar to that of the boy. It was not just that they were both Caucasian males either. Hotaru had been in America long enough to differentiate between white men. The more she looked at him, the more she was convinced that they also had the same nose; this man's was only slightly more defined.

"Going up?"

"Yes." Her eyebrows almost shot up at the incongruity of his voice and his outward appearance. It was surprisingly high for a grown man. "Nine please."

She pressed it for him.

They endured four floors of silence, in which she sneaked as many glances of his face as she could. By the eighth floor, she was almost sure that he had at least ninety percent of the same DNA as the boy who had been forced into the Snow White costume. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing Hotaru had yet to determine. A small world it was.

The more similarities she spotted, the more conscious she became of her surroundings. What if it was not just one of his relatives or someone who looked like a grown up version of him? What if it_was_ him? She feared that at any moment the man would open his mouth and start spewing out questions, for she recently got a boy cut before returning to Japan and did not look all that different from her Alice Academy self.

But he remained silent for that last floor, and the only sound she heard was the _ding_ of the elevator as its doors opened.

Conflicted, Hotaru wondered if she should speak now or forever hold her peace. In a strangled attempt, she managed to open her mouth slightly but could not force one syllable out.

The man seemed to have the same struggle. He mumbled something Hotaru did not quite catch completely before the doors closed completely.

The hair on the back of her neck stiffened. The word was "bye." He said "bye." He did not say "Imai." It was just pure rotten luck that her surname had such similar pronunciation to the word.

With new knots in her stomach, the inventor made her way down the familiar corridor of the sixteenth floor until she reached Hayami's office number, sixteen thirteen. His door was made of thick, opaque wood. There was none of that translucent glass stuff where the more solid colours could make their way through to the other side.

Though it was not yet time for her appointment, Hotaru tried turning the knob, already picturing the confrontation in her head. The next half hour would probably consist mainly of Hayami's silence and her various attempts to break it, not much different from their first meeting. Only, she was seriously contemplating whether or not to threaten retracting their contract if he kept biding time for whatever reason he did.

Unsurprisingly, his office door was locked. But before she could withdraw her hand, the knob turned from right underneath it.

There was a shuffle, followed by a drag and a creek as the door opened. The view of oak was replaced by a plaid, monochrome blue button down shirt, neatly ironed with no wrinkles at all. Lazily, Hotaru's eyes drifted up the line of buttons to the man's face. This time every single hair in her body froze, along with all muscles and nerves as well.

Upon seeing her, the man in the room had the same reaction.

They would have heard a pin drop.

"Imai."

"Hyuuga."

And then Hayami dashed to the door and slammed it loud enough for Subaru to hear.

* * *

><p>Muahahahaha. Can you say cliffhanger? This was one of the funnest chapters to write.<p>

Please review, fave, alert!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	4. Natsume Hyuuga and the Missing Tangerine

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Four: Natsume Hyuuga and the Missing Tangerine

* * *

><p>There were times in math and science when one had to heed the cumbersome procedures of applying the right number of significant digits, when failing to do so would risk getting an inaccurate answer which in turn resulted in deducted marks which in turn resulted in <em>failure<em>. And then there were times in life when one wished one's foot was only two point six four five eight seconds faster so that one could shove it between the door and the doorframe to prevent said door from slamming shut.

Hotaru experienced both.

But the former had escaped her mind for years after she had learned to let go of a certain trophy whereas the latter had her seething in an empty hallway, forming rather elaborate plans on how to break down Private Detective Hayami's door without landing herself a charge for breaking and entering. Or property damage, for that matter.

She did not understand what was so complex about the situation.

Natsume was there.

She was there.

They needed to talk.

So why could Hayami not let them talk already?

Instead, all he had so graciously bestowed her was a numb foot, a resonating rattle of wood—the rattle of her failure, Hotaru mused rather sadistically—and a firm click of a lock in place. Obviously all three reinforced the notion that neither man had the _balls_ to face her directly.

So without much of an option, Hotaru was left to wait in heavy silence because however appealing the thought of breaking down a door was, only barbarians would ever carry out such a fantasy. While Hotaru was not exactly a lady, she was even less of a barbarian.

And in the end, it was not as if Hayami and Natsume could stay cooped up inside that office forever. Sure thirty minutes would dawdle by. But eventually one or the other would have to come out via that very door. Unless Hayami had some kind of genius contraption up his sleeve—and genius he might be with information, but Hotaru knew he was the type of person who had no idea how to set up a table using an Ikea manual—pigs might as well fly before he and Natsume could perform the vanishing act.

Idly, she placed one foot exactly behind the other, toe to sole, until she hit the wall, pressing her entire weight against it. Hands behind her back, Hotaru leaned there, periodically glaring up at the wood as if it would spontaneously combust. Not like she could literally make it spontaneously combust. For it to do that, she needed the prerequisite of having the Fire Alice or something equally as hazardous to society.

For one terse, confusing moment, it seemed that Hayami's door had given in to her demands, clicking open and sliding in to leave behind a narrow slit. Hotaru was almost convinced she had extemporaneously developed the Alice of Psychokinesis before a sickly cough sounded from a man with an arched back.

So it was Hayami, not Natsume, who first greeted her, "please come in, Imai-san."

Pushing herself off the wall, Hotaru obeyed with just the right amount of dignity and eagerness. Her steps echoed his as they both disappeared into the confines of the room. Hayami gently shut the door behind them.

Disappointment awaited.

_Where is Hyuuga-san?_

His office, exactly as she had remembered it, was entirely devoid of any living being except for herself and the private detective. Natsume was not there. He was not in the photocopying room either. Well, well, it looked like Hayami did have a few tricks up his sleeve after all, though none visible to the naked eye. She glanced around the room, surveying for suspicious cracks and the like.

Hayate stumbled a path to his chair, wrinkling his nose all the way. "Please, have a seat."

Hotaru returned his request with a questioning brow, fully intent on staying on her feet for the entire meeting seeing as he so insistently left her standing in the hallway moments before. "It appears to me," she began, a fist under her chin, "that there is a man missing from this room. A man that I have personally requested for you to investigate. Now, Hayami," she closed the distance between them with three huge strides and slammed two hands on his desk, towering over his tiny figure with five feet and two inches of pure menace, "I sincerely _hope_ that the reason I saw Hyuuga Natsume-san in this room is because you have dragged him here for a interrogation, because you _know_ the repercussions were it otherwise, do you not?"

Pale and pasty, if Hotaru had not known better she would have believed that Hayami turned into a stone statue somewhere along her spiel. He stayed eerily calm and unnervingly still. It irked her, but it also confirmed what she had suspected for the past week while he was busy shirking his duties: Hayami and Natsume were acquainted; and not only that, they were acquainted on nothing short of a personal level.

She should have anticipated her rotten luck.

"Actually," he finally began, throat cracking, "I was tending to his cases before you unceremoniously showed up."

Hotaru pushed herself off of the desk before rolling her eyes and pacing around the room. With a quirky wave of her hand, she countered, "but can you truly say I am unjustified in this 'unceremonious' visit, as you call it, when Hiromi had given you a call moments before? Besides, I clearly tried to contact you every day of the past week—to no avail, I may add, because you were busy violating our agreement."

"Ah, yes. That, I apologize," his voice was leaden. "There were certain things I had to sort with Natsume first and we decided it wasn't wise to… expedite your meeting."

So it was exactly as she had deducted, and the lack of honourifics attached to Natsume's name confirmed that.

A casual stroll brought her behind the arm chair in front of Hayami's desk, the same one she had been sitting in when they signed their contracts, and the same one Natsume had been sitting in fifteen minutes ago. Hotaru set her folded arms very visibly on the back of the chair. "All right," she spoke stoically, "fair enough. I will allow you that particular leeway, for I do not know of your prearrangements. But I cannot help thinking that you expect to get away with five hundred thousand yen too easily. Right now, all signs are pointing to 'scam.' Or do you deny the eminent fact that you clearly never planned on honouring our contract in the first place?"

"I had two contracts to honour."

Understanding immediately dawned upon Hotaru. "Ah."

He continued, "I have a strict first come, first serve policy. Natsume beat you to the finish line by a day."

Hotaru stuck her tongue in between her teeth and upper lip before smacking her mouth unpleasantly. "So it would seem that at the same time I requested to investigate him, he also filed a case on _me_." This was she and Subaru in his apartment, all over again.

Hayami's blank face offered neither affirmation nor denial. Hotaru personally interpreted the lack of denial to be affirmation.

She heaved a heavy sigh. "This is a fine string of events we have been caught up in. Did you ever plan to set up a rendezvous?"

"His apartment, not my office."

Intrinsic suspicion surged throughout Hotaru's mind as she pondered on what it meant for Natsume to offer a more personal venue in lieu of a strictly business one.

Hayami offered an explanation, "he trusts me, but not that much."

"In which," she replied carefully, "it would make sense that he would trust _me_ even less, because we are not even acquainted with each other."

"Yes you are." It was the first time she had seen the tiny wimpy man show any sign of fortitude. The way he stressed those three words almost made Hotaru want to unfold her arms and properly listen. Almost. "Alice Academy? The Rebellion? You were one of the leaders. Natsume was another. Schoolmates? Classmates? You were together for most of your childhood, in fact, along with mutual friends Nogi Ruka and Sakura Mi—"

"Yes, thank you." She wondered if he could hear the slight tremor in her voice. "You have been nothing short of helpful, Hayami-san."

To her surprise, he flashed her a haughty smile back. "I heard through the grapevine that _the _Imai Hotaru-san lost her memories in an accident. Never thought it to be true."

"We are both full of surprises, are we not? I did not anticipate a full grown man to disappear from your office without a trace."

"That was but an easy task. Any old Teleportation Alice stone could do the trick."

She mentally berated herself for failing to consider the most obvious explanation. The prospect of a Teleportation Alice had slipped her mind for quite a while, since Teleportation Alices were rather common and Irving Academy was notorious for shunning those in favour of the uncannier Alices. But now that she had her mind on the subject, she did remember someone in Japan to have the Teleportation Alice.

"By any chance, did he happen to get that from Sakurano Shuuichi-san?"

To that, Hayami nodded so tenuously Hotaru doubted anyone without twenty-twenty vision would have caught the gesture.

She turned her head towards his window. "I had a hunch."

Precisely, she had a hunch which lead to a hunch which lead to a hunch. It started with Hayami's strange negligence. The negligence grew into suspicion, suspicion that he was somehow affiliated with Natsume to the point where he would almost protect the man in a way. And this only fueled her unquenchable curiosity of the man. But now she knew for sure that she was not just dealing with Natsume Hyuuga. Undoubtedly, there were many, many people in an interconnected web working a conspiracy of all sorts deep within the shadows of Tokyo.

And they were all Alices.

The tangerine plague was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Do they keep in touch often?" The plan was to worm out the information, little by little.

"Not that I know of. Shuuichi-san—" another Alice on a somewhat personal level "—gave him one Alice stone to help him get out of tough spots. He seldom uses it because of his Alice shape."

"Which is…"

"The fourth kind, the dangerous, life shortening kind. He's limitless. Forgive me for asking, Imai-san, but what does this have to do with your case?"

Her head snapped back to him, and though she could not stare directly into his eyes, she knew that Hayami was discretely warning her not to get too close for comfort. A small but frosty smile spread across her lips. "I apologize if I may seem straightforward. I do not know anything about Hyuuga Natsume-san as of the moment, you see. I like to do my research."

His nod implicated that she had passed the test. For now.

Tapping her chin, she remarked, "although if Hyuuga-san was the fourth type, I would strongly oppose hand him Alice stones. After all, shape is unique to each person regardless of whom the Alice stone belongs to. Added to his own Alice, would the Teleportation Alice not just hasten his death?"

"Actually," stated Hayami slowly, carefully, "Natsume doesn't have an Alice. His used to carry the Fire Alice, but it's been stolen from him."

The revelation startled Hotaru and froze her for a moment.

Uncontrollable flames flickered through her mind. She saw the more horrific images of a nightmare that plagued her since her freshmen year of high school. She was standing, small and weak, in front of two looming iron gates that locked up a fiery monster of hell. As they swung open, a blast of searing heat rushed onto her face; Hotaru was always convinced that had it not been a dream, her skin would have melted right off instantly. When the pain became bearable enough for her to see, the world was a swirl of red and orange.

The flames licked. They taunted. They rippled the air about them. They reduced everything into nothing but piles and piles of ashes.

She let out a shaky breath. "His Alice was stolen, you say?"

"Only a handful people in the world have the Stealing Alice, but the ones who do can remove and insert Alices at their whim. It's not necessarily evil, of course, but it's a power that many Alices fear."

As he said this, a shiver traveled down Hotaru's spine. She was never one to forget abnormal occurrences in her life, enhanced memory or not. The way Hayami talked about Stealing Alices sounded like he knew one, and it made Hotaru ninety eight point three five percent sure that she had known one as well.

"So Hyuuga-san encountered a Stealing Alice and lost his own Alice to him."

"Her."

She recalled something Subaru had brought up in that small taxi a week ago while the rain drizzled around them: _"You had a best friend inside Alice Academy, a long time ago. It was that girl who caused all the ruckus." _Now, she was sure of it. "Sakura Mikan-san."

"He overstepped his boundaries in that war. He was reduced to an inch from his death before Sakura-san and your brother saved him."

Maybe she should have seen it coming from all his snappy remarks about Natsume, or maybe she should have known the moment she discovered Natsume's connection to Shuuichi. Somehow, it was no less shocking when Hayami revealed Subaru's part in Natsume's life. Based on her brother's firm opinion on the Fire Alice, this was more impossible than improbable. But then it had been a good fifteen years ago, and Subaru would rather stay in Nagoya with her parents than his own apartment in Tokyo. No doubt there was some kind of falling out somewhere along the way.

"Sakura-san stole his Alice so he would no longer be tempted to use it."

"And quite obviously, she never gave it back to him."

"Well that's the thing, isn't it? She took it with her fifteen years ago, when she disappeared."

An eleven year old vanishing right after her best friend departed for a faraway land. It did not take a genius to connect the two, and it certainly was not preposterous for an outsider to reason that Mikan somehow placed the stone in Hotaru's hands to bring with her to somewhere far away. Somewhere Natsume could not reach.

But now that she was back in Japan…

"That is what he is looking for," Hotaru deducted confidently.

A small smile quirked on Hayami's lips. "Maybe. Or it could just be Sakura-san. After all, he does love her."

* * *

><p>Hotaru was left to stew over Hayami's cryptic words from the moment she left his office to the moment she got off the taxi that was supposed to take her to Natsume's apartment—or, as Hotaru personally liked to put it, his <em>habitat<em>.

Things had been amiss from the minute Hotaru stepped into the roomy yellow cab. Granted, Hayami had only given her a time and an address, but when she named the address her driver swiveled in his seat, giving her a quick perusal and a look that seemed to scream, _what is someone of _your_ prestige doing around _those_ parts? _She would hardly be surprised and completely shameful if some scandal involving herself and _fictitious_ shady dealings ended up on the front page of Japan Times, the business section.

Only the number of miles from Subaru's apartment to Hotaru's destination prompted him to drive on without question. He was eager to be there and be gone out of those parts as fast as he could. She could understand why.

The bright yellow of the cab stuck out like a sore thumb in this colourless neighbourhood.

Beige, stone and off-white seemed to be the norm here. Sometimes the maroon of a brick would show through chipped paint, but other than that the landowners could not even afford proper colours that did not look like they were picked out by Grandma Gertrude. Even the tattered, draggy clothes worn by locals looked like old curtain rags. More than a few homeless chaps lacked clothes in general. They snuggled pieces of former blankets close to their bodies in an attempt for decency and dignity.

It was not just the clothing either; there was something hostile in the air about them. Hotaru knew she had not imagined the scathing glares that quite a few had sent the cab's way. She could not pretend to ignore the forlorn looking man peddling a cart that carried flattened recycled boxes. Nor could she miss the fact that she only ever saw shady men alone and normal people walking in groups of two or more. No one dared to roam these streets without a purpose.

So this was the vulgar part of Tokyo—the Japanese equivalent of Brooklyn's ghettos.

"Here's your stop," announced the taxi driver, halting next to an alleyway. "You'll want to take that route to your address. I can't bring you any further." His tone was ice cold, as if implying that she had done him some kind of injustice by making him chauffeur her there.

But he was probably more concerned about the greedy eyes that were drinking in the sight of green bills as Hotaru placed a roll of cash in his hands. He seemed more than eager to kick her out and skedaddle, letting her to deal with them alone. She clamped her eyes when a blast of car exhaust hit her straight in the face. Talk about leaving someone in the dust. Literally.

Fortunately, _unprepared_ was not a word registered in Hotaru's dictionary. No. Her intrinsic nature was one that calculated all possible outcomes and the probably of said outcomes. Irving Academy and her phobia of failure drilled it into her mind again and again until she lived by the principle _the early bird catches the worm_.

And so Hotaru Imai never went to shady places without a form of defense. It had been that way in America. It would be that way in Japan. She had gone through a variety of gadgets, anything she could get her hands on, really: pepper spray, mini tasers, knock out gas, even inventions like her debugging spiders. Call her crazy, call her xenophobic. Hotaru liked to think of it as being absolutely prepared.

When she edged into the alleyway, her body was slanted diagonally and her hands were wrapped around a cold bottle. Pepper spray this time. Not too much, just a mini bottle. Piercing eyes stayed on her figure, searching for any signs of weakness, until she was far enough that she could not see their faces clearly anymore. Still, Hotaru kept her hands firmly wrapped around the bottle, ready to draw it out the moment somebody laid so much as a single finger on her body.

Deep into the alleyway, she silently cursed Natsume for living in such a dilapidated neighbourhood. Sure he looked dreadfully poor the first time they had met. She merely assumed that it was part of his getup, that he was masquerading as the broke and unfortunate chalk painter to attain some kind of sympathy from his audience. He certainly wore a decent, good-quality shirt that day in Hayami's office. If he could at least afford something like that, there was no place for him in these dirt poor parts of the city.

Stumbling, she made a sharp turn left, another sharp turn right and then, thankfully, arrived at a poorly paved courtyard. There were mud puddles all over the place and most of the cobbles looked like they had been freshly dug up from Pompeii, but all in all it was a great change of scenery from stony walls that reeked of urine.

At least she could relax her shoulders in here, free from hostility.

This was a place build for the elderly. They gathered around equally spaced out, wobbly tables and laughed boisterously with one another. Board games were popular amongst them, boards spread out and pieces scattered all over the place whether it be chess, shogi, go or mah-jong. A balding man whistled teasingly to a graying lady who in turn showered him with a handful of wheat. She had been feeding a bunch of chickens, that, for some reason, made themselves quite at home in the place.

"Yo." His voice was scratchy and unrefined, just as she had remembered it from the day he chased her taxi down.

At leisure, Hotaru rolled her eyes left to catch sight of Natsume Hyuuga clad in another decent-looking shirt, leaning against a white wall and twirling a standard wooden pencil in between his index and middle fingers. He still kept his hair slicked and wrapped up in a bandana. But at least it was not jutting out all over the place and he looked somewhat less of a brute now.

"I almost thought you weren't going to show," he drawled slowly, red eyes scrutinizing her attire as thoroughly as she had scrutinized his. Pressing back against the wall, he launched himself into a surprisingly firm stance. "If you wear that, you're bound to get mugged somewhere around here."

"Is this where you _live_?" She wrinkled her nose.

He rolled his eyes. "No, it's where I keep my pet chickens."

Natsume casually strode away and Hotaru followed him, head and nose pointed up with a firm countenance of disdain. She made it extra apparent to anyone who glanced her way that no, she was not nearly as hapless as them. Thankfully, being poor was the one impediment in life she never had to deal with.

When Hayami had forked over the address, he let it slip that it was indeed Natsume who painted the first tangerine on a no smoking sign at Shibuya Station a little over ten years ago. He would have been fifteen. Evidently sometime along the way, Alice Academy had decided that they had no use for a boy stripped of his Alice and, with utmost courtesy, kicked him out presumably into the streets to fend for himself. Most Alices did not have family to rely on for support.

Instead of circling around the tables, Natsume threaded through them, greeting handfuls of people as he did. Hotaru hung behind, observing him as he did and waiting patiently for the end of his detour.

He surprisingly placed his arms around a chair and an older man, hugging him from the back. Upon closer examination, the two men resembled each other substantially so it was likely that he was Natsume's—

"Hi dad. How's your luck been today?"

But then that would mean that his father was alive, and that his father had failed to support him. She frowned upon the gesture of love, even as Natsume slid his arms back to his side.

"No luck, I'm afraid. But now that you're here maybe that'll change." Natsume's father laughed extensively as all fathers did. His twinkling, merry eyes shifted up, catching sight of her. "Who's your lady friend over there?"

"That is Imai Hotaru-san, Mikan's best friend."

Hotaru narrowed her eyes, silently contemplating whether or not she would politely correct Natsume's tense. Doing so would give them a rather sour impression of her bigotry. Not doing so would be a blatant betrayal to Janine's memory. Either way, it was already out there so it was not as if she could force Natsume to take it back. Insignificant as the Hyuugas were, Hotaru did not think it would matter if she let things go this one time.

_Tenses_, she mused to herself, _are _so _important_.

Sometimes, that one little word—love_s_, instead of love_d_—could make a magnitude of difference. Hotaru found herself questioning, not for the first time, if Hayami had been messing with her mind earlier because Natsume having loved Mikan Sakura was plausible, but Natsume loving Mikan Sakura was something impossible. The girl had been gone for fifteen years. Wherever she was, she would be a completely different woman.

Hotaru looked up into the clouds dazedly as Natsume and his father's conversation went on somewhere back on earth.

"Is that so?" the senior Hyuuga asked.

Natsume replied with somewhat of a tangent detailing their old days at Alice Academy. Head still tilted, Hotaru closed her eyes to shut out the world.

Her meditation was interrupted by a sudden outcry from the older Hyuuga. "Hey! Gintarou! That was my turn! Can't look away for one moment, sheesh. I best get back to my game."

She lowered her gaze to see the last of the senior Hyuuga's lopsided smile before he turned to reprimand his gray-haired, chocolate-eyed pal. Before Natsume could preoccupy himself with another acquaintance, Hotaru's impatient tapping foot and folded arms beckoned him over to join her once more in a silent stride.

He lead the path to a red-brown building wedged between two ashen buildings that towered considerably above it. The tiny thing looked as if it had been poorly stuck there as a last minute addition. It probably had been too. Clearly, no one was in charge of maintenance around these parts; the paint was visibly flaking off and the gray of the concrete peeked out from underneath.

The end of their silence came at the beginning of the staircase. He had been the one to break it, disguising the question with thin, noncommitted curiosity, "how long have you been back in Japan?"

"Twelve days. You caught me on my second."

There were two floors on each side of a staircase and two staircases in that building, which made sense considering the building's size. Natsume's apartment was number eight, the left door on the fourth floor of the right staircase. His door was a sleek dark green, freshly painted. For Natsume, a talented chalk artist and possibly painter, this came as no surprise.

"You know," she told him, "you could easily become a freelance artist or sign a contract with a major company. Instead, you opt to paint these under-appreciated tangerines for little benefit and no pay. You are a peculiar person if I have ever met one."

"I have no interest in that kind of life," he sneered, wringing the door open rather violently. The sound of metal against metal echoed up and down the staircases.

Hotaru was convinced then that if she and Natsume's roles had been reversed, that if he had been the one shut out of Hayami's office instead, he definitely would have found a way to break the door down. Pursing her lips at the—dare she say—barbarianism, the inventor followed him in.

Upon first sight, she did not know what to make of the space other than the fact that it was significantly smaller than Subaru's apartment and just a little bigger than Hikaru's bedroom. The ceiling hung uncomfortably low above them, and the entire foyer seemed to be missing. A small shoe rack alone took up all the space immediately beyond the threshold. As she slipped out of her kitten heels and into dollar store sandals, Hotaru decided that being in Natsume's apartment was rather like being in a dollhouse.

A small, cheap dollhouse. With all removable parts either defaced, lost or thrown out.

Next to her, Natsume kicked off his shoes and casually swept around the dirty room in socks. She supposed that when one was more concerned on finding ways to survive, hygiene meant very little. Natsume seemed to be a living testament to that. Even Tom's house the morning after one of his roommate's rowdy parties could not possibly be any messier.

He sauntered over to a table that looked like it had been picked up off the streets, and with one sweep of his arm, cleared off a bunch of random objects that for some reason had been lying on top. Hotaru felt her OCD act up immediately; her fingers itched to pick every item off of the floor and find a rightful place for it.

"Sit." He pointed to an unfolded chair.

He was already off in his own world when she complied. Natsume had a habit of fiddling with things, Hotaru noticed. First it was the pencil, and as soon as he set that down he already had a piece of red string twirled around his fingers. For a while, he just fiddled with it as if there was not another person in his room at all. And then his mouth went agape and his eyes lit up as if indulging in some twisted debauchery of eye-raping the piece of string.

Hotaru snapped her fingers once to catch his attention.

Natsume did not respond.

"Hyuuga" she hissed, this time flicking her fingernail on his forehead and successfully snapping him out of his reverie.

Natsume blinked once, surprised.

"Are you done?"

With an almost pained look, he tucked the string away into his pocket and coughed. The air around them had become heavy again and the dull, businesslike glint was back in Natsume's eyes. For a second, he had the look of a child whose PS3 had been forcibly unplugged and homework shoved up in front of his nose.

She cleared her throat in an attempt to stop him from drifting back onto cloud nine. "So why have you been drawing these tangerines?"

"They're for Sakura Mikan."

"As a tribute?" Hotaru deadpanned. "Because she saved your life?" Her eyes took in the disorderly state of his room. She thought back to the people shooting needles and knives her way as they wrapped their thin jackets tighter around their bodies. "Is it really something worth throwing your whole life away for?"

He lost his temper then and there. On his feet in less than a second, Natsume brought both palms down with a force that rattled the table and made it jump an inch off the ground. "_No!_ It's the only way I can reach out to her because in case you haven't noticed already, Mikan is _gone_. Long gone. And by the looks of it, she's not coming back any time soon."

* * *

><p>Clues. Small clues. So many of them. Look for the italics and the small details. Everything's there for a reason. :)<p>

Please review, fave, alert!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	5. The Curse of Time

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Five: The Curse of Time

* * *

><p>In Hotaru's opinion, the ugliest point of humans' life was in rage, when smooth facial muscles rippled and morphed them into monsters that could not be recognized. When Natsume's berserk button was pressed, something inside Hotaru also snapped. Some part of her lost hold of the balance and serenity she tried a hundred and ten percent to always uphold. As his face burned and twisted, hers congealed and became as cold as ice.<p>

"So?"

The one world that slipped through her lips was enough to set both of them off completely for a second time.

"You don't care at all?" he accused with a firm, stubborn finger. Natsume's face was rosy and his eyes no longer crimson but a dark, bloody red. Every single one of his words dripped with rage. "So it means absolutely nothing that Mikan is your best friend. It means nothing that she saved you in the Rebellion or that you're alive today because of her. You're telling me that this all means _nothing_ to you?"

Hotaru fidgeted with anger and disbelief as Natsume's words managed to shake her. Truth be told, she always had that little pang of guilt gnawing at the back of her head, always did wonder what it was like back in the days when somebody other than Janine stuck to her side like a pesky but lovable bug. And sometimes, when she saw bits of Mikan in other people, she could not help but avert her eyes guiltily. It was because she did not like to dwell on the past, Hotaru justified to herself. In reality, some part of her still could not let go of this girl she had been such good friends with during childhood. Hotaru had bought those earrings for Mikan, not Janine. The first person she thought of when she saw that warm shade of hazel was Mikan, not Janine.

But she had long forgotten the most important parts of their friendship, and she had long forgotten why she befriended that girl in the first place. And right now Natsume's tantrum, combined with her own guilt that she refused to come to terms with, made Hotaru wrap up her heart in a protective sheet of ice.

Violet eyes sharply snapped to Natsume's face. "You cannot seriously be arguing this."

She was almost afraid of looking into his eyes for fear that she would see flashes of that destructive conflagration again. She hated the feeling of knowing that she would be devoured helplessly by his power had he focused it on her. The only solace came in knowing that he had lost possession of his Alice. Hotaru silently thanked Mikan Sakura for that spur of the moment decision.

"Try me." The words were stony and hard.

But Hotaru Imai would not back down from a challenge. She, too, rose to her feet and defiantly glared up into his face like an eruptive couple before the divorce. "I will hand you the truth in a nutshell. People die and disappear all the time, _Hyuuga_," for by this time what little respect they had between them was completely flung out the window, "all over the world, each with their own reason. Are you going to chase them all down and demand an explanation? Are you going to put in the time to investigate each little disappearance? Why should Sakura-san be any different?"

"It's _Mikan_! We owe something to her!"

For once, her voice owerpowered his. "I owe nothing to no one!"

She stunned them both into silence. Face to face, Hotaru and Natsume's chests heaved together rhythmically. They both found themselves out of breath from arguing against each other, though five minutes have yet to pass.

"How are you going to tell me that I _owe_ something to her when she put my life into jeopardy in the first place? I dare you to say it. Say the Rebellion is not Mikan's fault. Say that she is not in any way responsible for the loss of hundreds of lives, that _you_ were not responsible for the men you killed trying to protect her. Look me in the eye, say it with a straight face, and I will believe you."

"It wasn't her fault. You know whose fault it is? A perverse man with twisted, nihilistic ambitions."

Even Hotaru was surprised by the cold laughter that escaped her own lips. "Considering that he was the perpetrator, of course it is a given that Kuonji is responsible in some way. Still, in the big picture he was just one of the few. Do you know how I see it?" The words came raspy and coarse, but they were far beyond the point of no return. "Mikan Sakura endangered _everyone_ in Alice Academy, so it is more than befitting that she was the one who ended the Rebellion."

"You cold, unfeeling _bitch_."

Her hand instantaneously flew into the air, aching make contact with Natsume's face.

She never resorted to physical violence. There was not one case in fifteen long years where Hotaru inflicted bodily pain upon someone else using her own limbs. Sure she might have used gadgets. Sure she might have used machines. But for her to go out of her way to actually touch another—skin to skin—with the full intent of hurting them was saying a lot for Hotaru's state of mind. She hated feeling of flesh scraping roughly across her fingers. She hated it when her Alice peers slapped at her arm, or in one particular case, her face. So because she hated the feeling, she never tried to use inflict it upon anyone else.

But now she found herself making an exception for Natsume, because Hotaru could not stand being called a derogatory term by someone who was so much _lower_ than her.

"I dare you to repeat that."

Natsume's eyes hardened. "I was a fool."

Still fuming, Hotaru reluctantly lowered her hand and relaxed a little at his strive for redemption.

"I was a fool to ever believe that you, of all people could help me in any way. What was I _thinkin__g_?" His hand smacked against his forehead, a noise that should not have sounded that loud but did anyways to Hotaru's ears. "I hope you forgive me, Imai. For one moment, I actually thought that you were capable of _feeling_ something."

Hotaru saw red. "Forgive me too, Hyuuga," she managed. "For one moment, I actually thought you rationalized with your head, not your heart." By the sudden drop in volume, it would have been common sense to let the argument lie then and there. Too bad Hotaru's unrelenting pride would not have it. And so round two began with a sharp jab to a fresh wound, "were you there during Haiti? Katrina? Rwanda? Did you paint a city over for them as well?"

He opened his mouth. She cut him off.

"I figured that if you want to play saint, you should go through with it all the way."

Only, she was not the only one who knew how to hit where it hurt the most. "You have no right to condemn me for that when you see those lives as nothing but a statistic. I pity you. You have never loved anyone before, have you?"

She ground her teeth together into very fine powder. "You want to bring love into this now Hyuuga? Do you really think for a moment that you are _special_ because of what transpired between you and Sakura-san a little over a decade ago? Are you really ignorant enough to believe what you had then is the same as what you have now? That _is_ why you want to find her, right? You go to all these lengths, do all these silly things all because you _love_ her?"

"Jealous, Imai?" he gloated, "of the only feeling that you can't empathize—or rather, pretend to empathize with?"

Hotaru would be lying if she said that she did not try to understand love at least once in her life. There were just some things she could not explain—maybe an unusual attachment or an abrupt and eager curiosity in a person or thing. She attributed those feelings to the phenomenon of love. Such was the case of her trophy. Hotaru was obsessed with it for the longest time, yes, but she was also sure that somewhere along the way she had learned to love the object as well. How else could she explain that empty, devastating feeling in her heart when she had relinquished it?

She knew she could never last a second time.

She shut out all prospects of love. She turned a blind eye to the mere idea of it. Love was for other people. Hotaru Imai was an exception.

"Then tell me why my brother, someone who loved his wife with his heart and soul, abhors your very being. Why is Subaru so against the idea of you and that tangerine project of yours? He knew that it was not healthy for you, am I right?"

The rage, along with all blood, was washed from Natsume's cheeks. He blanched a marble white. "That's a completely different matter."

"I believe I have a pretty good idea of what it is. My brother, upon my return asked if I would try to save someone even though I was ninety nine percent sure that they would not survive. Do you see where I am going with this Hyuuga?" He had no visible reaction and so she continued, "Subaru believed that you would put your life to good use—the one life that he took a chance with and preformed a miracle."

"Shut up!" he growled.

"I, too, would be quite enraged if a man I believed would not survive did, only to go down the wrong road and end up barely scraping through his shamble of a life."

"Imai," hyperventilated Natsume, "you leave this instant and never show your face in front of me again."

"And I think that if Sakura Mikan-san were to see you now, she would be equally disappointed in you. That day you put your future in her hands along with your Alice stone, did you not? And now, you remain the same boy you were fifteen years ago."

"GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT."

She did, in fact, quite eagerly. In the process, two slippers were flung somewhere behind her in a flimsy attempt to hit him. She slipped her feet back into her own comfortable shoes, reveling in the twisted thought that what she had was so much better than what he had.

Cruelly, Hotaru's lips warped into a sick smile and her heart filled with malice for the only other being in the room. In the end, it was she who had the power. She could evict him from that petty excuse of a place if she actually tried, because she was the one with important business connections and he was just some hobo chalk painter. And she could cripple him any time she wanted with the bottle of pepper spray inside her bag, but she chose not to because she was such a good Samaritan.

His string of curses was her goodbye. Her slam of the door was his.

* * *

><p>The conclusion to Natsume's chapter in her life was carefully timed and planned by Hotaru. Come Monday, she prepared two checks and sought out Hayami during his break. She was aware that the Hotaru Imai of the moment had nothing on the Hotaru Imai of last Tuesday. She entered the door, limp and lifeless, stumbled to the receptionist with dark circles on her eyes and almost sighed wistfully before requesting to see Hayami.<p>

This time, it was not Hiromi who catered to her but rather an older, more professional woman. Less chirpily, she received an a-okay from Hayami and sent Hotaru up without a second glance. For a second, the inventor wondered if Hiromi somehow got reprimanded for the Natsume incident.

It almost made her sick to her stomach how clearly the route to sixteen thirteen registered in her memory. Though she did not encounter the Caucasian man on the elevator again, she almost expected to and was even a little disappointed when she did not. But she was simply sent straight to floor sixteen without any stops. Hotaru snorted. There seemed to be a pattern going on here.

She pulled herself together as she walked down the corridor. This trip had been procrastinated for almost a week now, and there was no doubt that Hayami already heard about the eruptive argument from Natsume. The last thing she wanted to do was make herself a fool in front of him.

Gently, with her fist, Hotaru placed three knocks.

"Imai-san, come in!"

Blue eyes. Blond hair. Her jaw almost dropped when she saw him and the million watt smile he directed at her.

"It _is_ you," exclaimed Hotaru, surprised, "the Snow White kid."

Confusion crossed his facial features before his eyes widened in realization. Quickly, he ushered her in, gushing all the way at how remarkable it was that she remembered such insignificant incidents. A tinge of pink grazed his cheeks as he laughed the embarrassing memory off.

"Imai-san!" Hayami perked up. Instead of his usual position at his desk, he had made a little circle of space in the middle of the room and placed three unfolded chairs there. The blond man took the other and Hotaru presumed the last was meant for her. "Nogi Ruka, Imai Hotaru. Imai Hotaru, Nogi Ruka."

They swapped meek smiles and handshakes. Hotaru noticed that his grip was tentative and hands abnormally soft and warm.

"What a rather extensive network you have here, Hayami-san," she stated coolly.

Ruka warmed the room with a smile. "Oh, it's nothing, Imai-san. Around here, everyone knows everyone. I'm really surprised that you remember _that _particular play of all things." He fidgeted, having a hard time keeping the smile from twitching off his face. His face darkened a shade as he began rambling, "well, not really, I guess, because you were the one who blackmailed me into the costume so you could take pictures to send to my fanclub, but you know… I thought that you'd remember the Rebellion or something, not _that_."

Hotaru and Hayami gave him identical blank stares.

Ruka sighed, "what I mean to say is that I thought you'd forgotten everything—or in any case, that's what Sumire-san told me."

Hayami indignantly snorted and shook his head at Ruka's flustered state. "Shouda-san was right in any case. This boring job does have its perks after all. Imagine my surprise when Imai-san came to my office nearly two weeks ago, demanding to know who Hyuuga Natsume is."

"Oh. Well Koko's not going to be happy about this. He made pretty big bets with her."

"Pointless, really," Hayami told Hotaru. "They have a joint bank account."

Her sharp, calculative side got the best of her and she immediately began interrogating, "are they a couple? Married? How many years? They have made divorce and property specifications known to lawyers, have they not? In any case, joint bank accounts are severely risky for any two parties. I have never had one myself. There is always the off chance that one person could run off with most of the money."

The two men exchanged looks of constrained laughter that made Hotaru wonder if she was missing something.

Hayami turned to her with a smile she never thought he was capable of making, "yeah, like _that'll _happen. She'd sniff out his trail and beat him half to death once she found him."

"Yes, but it is not always the case of men," argued Hotaru. "She could be the one who intends to hoodwink him."

"No, Imai-san," Ruka explained jovially, and Hotaru only noticed now the steaming cup of tea he attained somewhere along their conversation. "Sumire-san can't possibly live without Alices, you see." He took a sip. "She's a little bit too attached to the company of AFO. We do spoil her quite a lot."

"AFO?"

Ruka blinked.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hayami suddenly, jerking his own cup in surprise and almost sloshing tea all over the himself. "Yeah, I forgot to tell you that we haven't gone that far yet. AFO is short for Alice Funding Organization, Imai-san. It's a non-profit organization found by Natsume to support new graduates from Alice Academy. Actually, a lot of our former classmates are in it."

Natsume and Alice Academy in the same sentence. Hotaru's mood went through a double kill. Suddenly, she felt like she had overstayed her visit by quite a large margin. She narrowed her eyes at Hayami and Ruka, chatting animatedly and comfortably to each other. What was she doing here? It hit her mind for the first time that the three of them were hanging out in an office with mugs in their hands as if it were some family gathering from _Little House in the Prairie._

As a sharp reminder, the corners of her cheques jabbed at her skin.

Hotaru abruptly rose to her feet.

At the same time, Ruka's eyes strayed from Hayami's face to her figure and he set his mug down on Hayami's table, confused. "Are you leaving, Imai-san?" She caught a slight undertone of disappointment in his question.

Her eyes drifted to her hands. She attentively smoothed out the two cheques with her fingers several times and without looking up, told them, "I just remembered what I came here for. Hayami-san, surely you have already been informed from Hyuuga about our eventful talk."

Ruka quirked a brow as he looked from Hotaru to Hayami, both having donned stiff, poker faces all of a sudden.

"He did drop by once." It was all the answer Hotaru needed.

She held out the two pieces of paper to Hayami, who fingered them delicately. He raised them all the way up to his eyes, staring holes in the paper as if for every second he looked a way a digit would disappear. His finger brushed over her signature briefly before latching a tight grip on the ends of the cheques. The private investigator looked up at her, awestruck.

"T-this—" He could only sputter.

"Five hundred thousand yen for two cases. Consider our business done."

Ruka's own eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Two two hundred fifty thousand yen checks?" he boomed, leaning over on his chair to peer at the pieces of paper in Hayami's hands. Looking quite like he had found the Lost City of Atlantis, his voice dropped to a whisper, "holy smoke, Imai-san. How rich have you become?"

In a deadpan, she revealed casually, "I have about five million American dollars total in liquid and assets. Of course, I plan on at least quadrupling that in the next ten years."

Ruka tried to do the math in his head. He was poorly failing.

Hotaru sighed, "that is, I believe, approximately two hundred ninety million yen in Japanese currency."

"Wow," he seemed to be at a loss for anything else to say. "Wow! I always knew that you were good at business but I never thought that you'd be, well, a millionaire by this age. Although I should have expected it. I mean, back in the Academy there was always a line of businessmen waiting to see your inventions and it was only a matter of time before you really struck gold." He gulped down a large ball of phlegm. "I really don't know what to say. This is truly amazing, Imai-san."

"She's got more money than Akaki," Hayami could only mutter. "_Akaki_."

Hotaru flinched as she thought of all the sleepless nights, all the anguish that she had to face in order to get from where she had been to where she was now. "It really is not—"

"Don't say that it's not a big deal," Ruka chastised, giving her a sound pat on the back; Hotaru flinched at the contact. "You've come so far! It's almost as if you're a different person!"

Her eyes found the floor. "Thank you Nogi-san, Hayami-san. I should go."

Ruka's eyebrows knitted together at her. "What's wrong? Sorry! Was it something I said?"

She whipped her head up and looked around the room aimlessly. "Uh, no. I just need to fix a time in my schedule to go visit my family. It has been a while." She offered him a meek smile, hoping that he would let her leave with that excuse.

Ruka did not. "Hey, speaking of catching up, why don't you come and have dinner with the crew on at _TGIF_ this Friday? It's this biweekly tradition that Sumire-san came up with. Hey, I bet they'll be so happy to see you again."

On any other day Hotaru would have laughed cynically at her bad luck. Despite her efforts to leave behind the past, she had gotten an express ticket from a puppy-eyed man right back into the fray. The answer was obvious, but for some reason she felt an entire different level of guilt at the thought of saying no directly to his face. Hotaru sighed; she was getting soft. As a last measure, she rejected his offer with a shake of her head.

"Oh, come on," Ruka egged on as Hayami, losing interest in the conversation, went to stash his two cheques somewhere in the photocopying cum storage room. "If this is about Natsume, he won't be there."

He sensed the change in atmosphere before she herself realized it. Ruka took an inconspicuous step back, as if Hotaru had just turned into a time bomb and was now ready to blow any minute. Indeed, she did feel rage swallowing up her entire being but she frowned at his cowardice. Surely he would expect her to have more than sufficient self control over her emotions unlike, say, that wretched hoodlum, Natsume. It only angered Hotaru further.

"And pray tell, how do you know about this incident?"

He opened his mouth and looked down, set on avoiding eye contact. "Actually, he told me himself."

"So now Hyuuga is going around divulging everyone our personal affairs?" she spat, unable to keep the vehemence off of her face.

Ruka looked at her pleadingly. "I'm his best friend."

"I do not care if you are his pet chicken," hissed Hotaru, curving her body forward with two white fists at the ready. "The fact remains that what transpired between Hyuuga and I are of no concern to _you_." And she did not want anyone to know about the uglier side of herself, because Hotaru completely lost control of her words in that argument and insult after insult had spewed unstoppably from her mouth. She had, for the first time, felt like a dirty swine. "Would it not have been normal to let private arguments lie? Did he have to expose to the whole world of our disagreement like we are still in middle school and searching for peers to take our respective sides?"

Completely at a loss, Ruka suddenly bent forward. It was a full on bow, with his head facing the tiled floor and his hands behind his back.

Hotaru froze from head to toe, completely horrified with herself. In an instant, all anger drained from her body, duly replaced with enough shame to bury herself six feet under. Sorry could not possibly cut it this time. Her eyes stung as tears threatened to build up behind those purple orbs. Had she really become so low of a person or was she like this all along? Ruka was a third party, she knew that. He had no control of Natsume's actions. As the best friend, he had merely lent an ear to Natsume when the latter requested it because it was what best friends did; Hotaru would have done the same for Janine. So why had she ambushed the messenger?

His words only added to the concoction of guilt and shame. "On behalf of Natsume, I apologize. He's a good person, Imai-san. I swear on my life that he didn't mean to personally attack you or anything. And he hasn't told anyone else, just Hayami and I. I know it doesn't have anything to do with me; it must have slipped his mind at the time. I'm truly, sincerely sorry."

Hotaru gripped her fists even tighter. Thankfully she trimmed her nails on a daily basis so they were not sharp enough to cut into her own skin. She felt like all possible bodily fluids were rushing to her face and eyes. "S-stop," she rasped, in an attempt to utter the other, more appropriate S word. "Just stop. Do not bow to me, Nogi-san."

Back remaining bent, Ruka raised his head and strands of hair fell into his befuddled face. Hotaru forced herself to look at him so that he could see what she was really trying to convey. Her eyes silently pleaded for his forgiveness and his eyes widened as he saw her flushed face. Uprighting himself, Ruka allowed her a small nod.

A smile spread across his face. Hotaru did not deserve it.

"So will you come dine with us this Friday?"

Her eyes averted. "Yes…"

* * *

><p>"Can I help you?" a waiter asked while tapping a pen repetitively on a notepad.<p>

Another one had asked her the same thing two minutes ago before tucking the writing implement behind his ear and skedaddling away to collect a bill from a nearby table. Quite a few more were flitting around, actually, tirelessly manning the restaurant at the peak of its business. She supposed there was both an upside and a downside to working at a place called _Thank God It's Friday_.

Hotaru perused the entire restaurant for a blond haired, blue eyed man before allowing him her full attention. "You may, in fact. My name is Imai Hotaru. I am listed under the reservation for Harada Misaki-san."

The waiter picked up a huge reservation book from the podium and flipped through it at a speed that would have rivaled Hiromi the receptionist. Hotaru wondered offhandedly if it was a requirement for every middle class worker to have lightning fingers or if their jobs were just so mediocre that they had nothing else to do but practice.

"Yes, right here please."

As soon as he lead Hotaru to the inner chambers of the restaurant, she immediately picked out the Alice table by their abnormal hair and eye colours. Thirty people looking like characters straight out of an anime were not easy to miss. Thanking the waiter, Hotaru journeyed the rest of the way alone, or had planned to. Not yet halfway across the room, at least ten people rose out of their seats and one person managed to fling her two arms fully around the inventor.

Hotaru patted the woman back awkwardly.

"Hotaru-chan!" The muscular arms were nearly strangling her. At least the Alice had the consideration to let go and grip Hotaru's shoulders before saying anything else. "Remember me? It's Misaki-senpai! Harada Misaki-senpai!"

"Yes, you made the reservation," Hotaru had been about to say but was pulled away by another pair of arms before she could even open her mouth.

The next person who introduced himself was Tsubasa Andou. He was a tall, dark-haired man with a unique star birthmark beneath his left eye. Apparently he was also her upperclassman in Alice Academy. Hotaru preferred not to indulge herself in too many details. She merely smiled and nodded as she was passed from one Alice to another like a hot potato.

She was introduced to a young gray-haired chap, Yuu. A wide-eyed boyish man with glasses called himself Megane the magician. Then there was pink-haired Anna, whose family owned a local bakery that Hotaru "just had to come by and see!" She also met the well-known couple Sumire Shouda and Koko Yome; both had kept their surnames post marriage. Sumire, she was surprised to discover, was the unpleasant girl with the ugly perm in that picture alongside her and Mikan Sakura. The busybody amazingly conjured a billion and one questions for Hotaru in less than a minute before Koko pried her off with a playful wink.

"Have a seat!" one of them—she was not sure which—ushered.

Promptly following, she was ungracefully plopped beside Tsubasa the upperclassman and Ruka.

"Your dress is so pretty!" cooed a navy haired girl who had not yet introduced herself. Her chirpy voice and bright, eager eyes made Hotaru feel like she was suddenly nineteen and part of one of those huge teenage gatherings. "Is it purple silk? I love all the folds! It matches you so much!"

"Thank you, uh—"

"Nonoko, remember? We formed the Three Geeky Sisters with Anna together back in Alice Academy!"

Hotaru's face was a blank piece of paper. How did they all manage to remember those little, insignificant details? "No… I cannot say I do."

"Oh, don't worry!" squealed Nonoko. "We'll jog up your memory in no time!"

_But I do not want to remember_…

She shifted uncomfortably as a menu was suddenly slipped under her hands. Hotaru looked up with every intention of thanking whoever had gotten that for her, only to meet blank space. Well, more precisely, everyone was tending to their own business and it was virtually impossible to distinguish one person out of this animated crowd.

"To reunion!" Koko yelled from across the table, raising his cup of water quite sharply into the air. Several people clanged their own with his and they all swigged their drinks. "Now the only person we have left is Mikan. Misaki, we should have champagne. This calls for a celebration."

"There's no champagne here." Hotaru's ears perked up immediately. No champagne? What was this middle-class sacrilege? "But we can celebrate with a few bottles of wine." Misaki then leaned over to have an animated discussion with Koko about the specific bottles of wine offered.

Meanwhile, the inventor opened up the menu in front of her. A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows as she examined the foreign dishes in detail. Did she really come to a_ casual_ restaurant? All that was there was fast food presented on a plate. Was it really usual for a casual restaurant to serve so much fried and breaded dishes? And there was no crab, Hotaru noticed as she flipped through the seafood section. There. Was. No. Crab.

Ruka, eyeing her perplexed face, leaned over and pointed to number one hundred twenty one. "If it's your first time here, the cajun shrimp and chicken pasta isn't bad. I think you used to like seafood. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"Crab. I like crab."

"This is so interesting," Tsubasa cut in, causing both Ruka and Hotaru to look up at him, startled, "Hotaru-chan and Ruka are having a civil conversation. He used to be so scared of her and all the stuff she did to him."

"She used her baka-gun on like _everyone._" How Sumire caught ear of the conversation from halfway across the table, Hotaru could not even begin to fathom. "Also, that hoof thingy. I remember her smacking Mikan with it when she first came."

"She hit me with her baka-gun once!" Koko cried. "It really hurt."

He was graced with an eye roll. "Obviously."

Hotaru narrowed her eyes at them all. "I do not know how you all get this foolish notion of me whenever the name Imai Hotaru crosses your mind. Just what on earth is a baka-gun?"

Twenty-something pairs of blank eyes fixated themselves on her. Hotaru almost groaned audibly; the last thing she intended to do was to put herself in the spotlight, but as usual, luck did not seem to be on her side. Disbelief seemed to be the general consensus amongst the Alices. All chatter had ceased and people who were having a merry time seconds ago now clenched their classes nervously.

"A baka-gun, as in—uh—that gun that you shot people with. And it's called baka-gun because you used to shoot people. Like, idiot people—idiots? And it hurt. A lot." Even Tsubasa's explanation was broken and incoherent in his bewilderment.

"The baka-gun!" screeched Sumire, infinitely louder and more demanding. "You invented it! You told us how it worked! You can't just—just _forget_ about it!"

But evidently she did. Hotaru winced as she thought of the Memory Project for the umpteenth time. From across the table, Koko suddenly caught her eye, a graver expression on his face than she had ever seen him make, and gave her a steady nod of understanding.

Then, the smile returned as he exclaimed, "guys, guys, sherry or burgundy?"

Another eruption of voices ensued, earning them all a sharp glare from the waiter with a pen behind his ear. Rolling his eyes, he returned to taking orders from an elderly couple a few tables away. He seemed quite accustomed to this level of noise pollution by now, though she could not understand how. All Hotaru wanted to do was raid the nearest convenience store and demand a pair of high-quality earmuffs.

"Mind reading Alice," Ruka said, and it took a few seconds for Hotaru to realize that he was talking about Koko. "He's been a great help to us over the years actually."

Koko was boisterous laughing with someone who could have been passed for his twin if not for the significantly narrower eyes. Hotaru noticed that another woman made a point of shooting rather scathing glares their way for interrupting whatever she had been doing. They apologized and she went back to her business with a huff. At that point, the inventor almost looked away but then the gray haired woman started jerking her hands and feet sharply in every direction, banging elbows on nearby tables and chairs. The other Alices cleared a meter of space for her deranged rain dance.

"What is she doing?" queried Hotaru.

A forkful of food in his mouth, Ruka lifted his head up. His expression was neutral, as if this were just any normal occurrence. Gulping down the last of his spaghetti, he explained, "that's just Otonashi Yura. Someone must have asked her to do a divination."

The strange woman closed her eyes and lifted a finger into the air, as if hesitant to touch something that she was seeing inside her head. Her mouth opened in a half gasp, and then closed again. Her face started off surprised, slowly morphed into anxious and was in the process of turning into an fretful cringe.

Ruka frowned. "That don't look good."

Hotaru nodded noncommittally.

Somewhere in the middle of no fewer than six Alices locked in a passionate argument over wine selection, Koko perked up and snapped his head in the direction of the podium. "Hey guys!" he exclaimed, "guess who just arrived?"

"No!" This time it was Yura, eyes fully open, alert and blazing. She set down a firm fist on the table. "Somebody go and keep him at bay. Hotaru-chan, duck quickly!"

"Cool blue sky?" squeaked a new voice.

Everyone froze. The table was silent save for the smack of Yura's forehead as it met the table.

"Is it really you?"

Hotaru, unaware that the new voice was addressing her, chewed on a shrimp quite leisurely. By now, she had learned to ignore all unanimous reactions amongst the Alices since mob mentality had always been something she could never understand. She just decided to make a quick trip to the lady's room when the footprints stopped behind her chair. Hotaru turned, standing as she did so, and found herself face to face with a complete stranger.

The lanky man had hair that was somehow too light near the scalp and too dark at the tips. His eyes were disproportional, the schlera being much larger than the pupils and irises. The one thing that irked Hotaru though, besides the fact that he was obstructing her path, was that he arrived in casual garments unlike the rest of the Alices who were at least semi-formal.

One look at Hotaru and his eyes widened, revealing even more schlera. "It is you. I can't believe it. You're really back!"

Ruka looked like he was about to speak up but before he could, this stranger engulfed Hotaru into a hug so tight that all air escaped her lungs like a deflating balloon.

* * *

><p>I'm actually pretty satisfied with this chapter too. The dynamics of NatsumeHotaru, Ruka/Hotaru and Ruka/Natsume relationships seem much more believable than Version 1.0. :P

Thank you _MiladyQueenMab_ for suggesting the restaurant!

As usual, please review, fave, alert!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	6. Minus One, Minus All

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Six: Minus One, Minus All

* * *

><p>The dress Hotaru wore that day was halter-top and backless. So when Hayate's arms came around her and his palm—his disgusting, sweaty, calloused palm—pressed into her skin, it was all she could do to stay still and not flip out entirely. If he felt her body go rigid at his touch, the man did not show it. Though his hands stayed on her back and had not roamed—and by this point, Hotaru was not even sure whether that was a blessing or not—she felt his body pressing into her own tighter and tighter.<p>

If Hayate took even one second to look at her face, he would have jumped back at the absolutely venomous visage she had worn just then. No qualms whatsoever, Hotaru's hand slipped into the purse that hung around her chair and gripped a cold, metal object.

"Hayate, you may want to let go of her," Koko snapped them both out of their respective fantasies. "She feels really uncomfortable right now. And she has pepper spray."

Instantly, the stranger's hands flew into the air just as Hotaru's hands flew out of her purse, directing the bottle's opening at him. Startled, he seemed to trip over his own feet in an attempt to stumble back a few steps. She growled menacingly, forcing him to retreat further out of her personal bubble.

"I told you! I _told_ you guys this would happen," Yura sulked with puff cheeks and crossed arms.

"Who are you?" Hotaru's voice was stony.

Sumire snorted, "oh _now_ she's done it."

Her words stunned the man into gaping disbelief. He lifted one limp arm, oscillating a rude finger back and forth between Sumire and Hotaru. Hayate opened and closed his mouth a grand total of ten times, all the while not making a single sound. Hotaru briefly thought of flapping fish in the supermarket after they were freshly netted from the tank.

She snapped her fingers twice. "Hello? Will you introduce yourself to me now or will we dawdle for the next half hour?"

"I-I'm Matsudaira Hayate!" he stuttered, eyeing her expectantly as if she could just magically register the name from somewhere within her memory.

She raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do we know each other?"

"I'm Hayate!" he reiterated futilely. "How can you not remember me? We were such good friends in Alice Academy!"

"He piggybacked you once during the Rebellion," cut in a woman, a former upperclassman named Shizune Yamanouchi, "—that is, after you did his face in with your baka-gun."

"Shizune…"

"Oh, don't mind her," said a man who introduced himself earlier to Hotaru as Akira Tonouchi. "Shizune-chan and her _cult_ have no mercy on men at all." He shot the gray-haired woman a withering glance and when Shizune hissed back at him, jutted out his lower lip childishly.

"Aren't you getting a bit too old to be a womanizer?" asked Misaki offhandedly.

Tono's voice was jumpy and jovial. "I'm still going strong, barely in my thirties! You make me sound so _old_ Misaki-chan…"

Again, the excitement returned as the Alices turned away to bicker and gossip amongst themselves. Hotaru tried to focus and analyze as many conversations as she could, but it was hard to do that when the man was _still_ gaping at her. Though, at least his mouth had clamped shut; now it was only his trembling lips and pitiful near-tears expression that unnerved the core of Hotaru's very being.

Like a lost puppy, he took a hopeful step towards her.

"Hayate, take a seat," sighed Tsubasa.

The words seemed to have gone in one ear and out the other. Indeed, this man was an entirely new level of foolish; Hotaru just wanted to smack him upside the head with the nearest glass, but then she feared that if she did he would just end up losing what little brain cells he had in the first place. Less than a minute later, she changed her mind as he roamed into perilous territory by abruptly grabbing both Hotaru's shoulders with his hands.

"Cool Blue Sky," he murmured in worship, "I thought I'd never see you again."

With patience that surprised even herself, Hotaru set down her bottle of pepper spray and slid his annoying arms from her shoulders. "Would you stop calling me that? My name is Imai Hotaru. Cool Blue Sky is an absurd nickname if I have ever heard one."

"But I—you—I lov—"

"Okay! That's enough for today, Hayate!" a smiling man-woman fortunately cut him off by pinching his ear. The Alice smiled as he or she towed Hayate away to the opposite side of the table, the latter shooting Hotaru lovesick stares the entire way.

She rested her forehead on her hand.

"Amane Rui," informed Ruka, "and just in case you're wondering, yes he is a man."

She shrugged weakly. Rui's gender was not the foremost concern on her mind right now. Hotaru took one glance at the bathroom and another at her food. Suddenly, she was not all that hungry anymore; this was cheap stuff she could get anywhere off the streets anyway. She looked at each and every Alice, etching their faces into her memory as she slid one arm after the other into her jacket sleeves. Their wide, smiling expressions and loud laughter made Hotaru feel like a complete party pooper. She closed her eyes, imagining for a minute that she was back in America, watching reruns of _Law and Order_ with Janine and a huge bag of popcorn in between them.

Reopening them, Hotaru offered Ruka an exclusive, fleeting smile. "I should go pay the bill."

* * *

><p>Hotaru never knew exhaustion like she did upon returning to her apartment that very night. Through tired, half-lidded eyes, she saw a foreign room—not that she expected to somehow magically find her way back into Janine's place; in fact, Janine probably moved into Tom's house by now. Something about the off white walls, the weirdly coordinated pieces of furniture and even the picture frames nabbed at her mind and reminded her that no, she now had no other home but this odd, empty little place.<p>

What a wretched place it was.

Even the bare wall that Subaru had demanded her not to touch only served as a reminder that there had once been a happy family living here. One, Hotaru remarked bitterly, that fell into pieces. And now it was just her. Maybe Janine was right. Maybe she did need a roommate.

In any case, her new hermit lifestyle had not been treating her well. Insomniac nights were the norm, and she knew it was not because of jet lag when she woke up in a depressing state wondering where exactly she was going in her life.

Maybe she really was depressed. It certainly seemed so when she found herself sitting alone at the glass table, staring into a cup of water and willing it to somehow turn into liquor. It had not. Resigned, Hotaru downed the entire glass in one gulp.

This was probably the reason why Subaru decided to move back with their mother and father. Living alone was a fleeting, childish dream of a pampered kid with overbearing parents. In actuality, there was nothing appealing about it, especially since the reason she was alone in the first place was because the government had bereft her of all her friends.

Hotaru looked to the smiling face of Janine, and in doing so, saw a phone book that she had accidentally left on the shelf after unpacking. It was her old phonebook, the one with her parents' number. Thinking of her family brought a rare smile to Hotaru's lips. She got up, finally taking the initiative to pick up the receiver and dial the number that she had dialed only once before.

The snappy, grouchy voice that greeted her did nothing to wipe the smile off her face. "Why are you calling at this hour?" Subaru must have registered her number on caller ID to avoid any more surprises.

Without meaning to, Hotaru blurted, "can I come home?"

Her voice came out so small and vulnerable Hotaru felt a part of herself turning back into a child. She must have reminisced too deeply and got caught up in the moment. As soon as the words tumbled out, the smile disappeared from her face and she quickly covered her mouth with a hand. Not that it would have made a difference. Without doubt Subaru already heard, and he would never give her the light of day after this. Between them, this would always be that one time when she let her guard down and lost her cool, the one time he had won.

Hateful jitters made their presence in Hotaru's stomach during the pregnant pause that ensued.

"Okay," Subaru finally replied, just as gently as she had asked.

Hotaru tensed and readied herself for the teasing follow up, the unintentional demeaning that hurt that much more precisely because it was unintentional. It never came. The inventor eventually slacked her shoulders, and, looking to the floor, banished all jitters from her body. Had there been a mirror in front of her, she would have been surprised to see the grateful beam that completely lit up her eyes.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>When Hotaru first stepped foot in Nagoya in almost two decades, she was completely wiped out. Tokyo's train stations were much too overcrowded on weekends. To make things worse, her train had been delayed by an hour. All she wanted to do now was slump into a blob of jelly on a couch or a bed or something equally as soft.<p>

But the ordeal was not yet over. Nagoya's townspeople made it their business to label Hotaru as an outsider through heavy scrutiny. In a small town, everyone was bound to know everyone. These people knew she did not belong, that it did not matter that she was clad in a very conservative cardigan and nice, ironed khakis because in this town, Hotaru still stuck out like a sore thumb.

Why was it that she garnered unwanted attention everywhere she went?

The roads were never that long before.

An eternity went by before she arrived at her destination. She had no recollection of the house, but Subaru had described it to her the day before, knowing that if it was Hotaru, she could easily generate an photorealistic image in her mind from simply being given descriptive details. And she did. The bungalow was just as she had imagined it, little and cozy. It was a house vintage enough to have a chimney. The walls were stony, somehow suitably unpainted. The roof was angled, considerably less so on the side facing the door than the side facing the yard that was not really a yard but a neat patch of grass extending into a wilder field. The door was quite a bit elevated from the ground, but since no steps had been built the Imais gathered some slabs of stone and rearranged them into a ramp.

The house was too old for a doorbell. Hotaru placed three steady knocks on the planked door, heart racing at a thousand miles per hour.

It opened so abruptly that she almost had to take a step back. Though Hotaru had been anxious, the woman on the other side was much giddier. Her mother's wrinkled hands trembled over her mouth as she took sight of adult Hotaru for the first time. Mrs. Imai was at her side before the latter could even fully comprehend what exactly just happened. As she stood in front of the inventor, she reached one hesitant hand towards her face in feat that the Hotaru she saw was a mere mirage.

Mrs. Imai brushed her finger against Hotaru's hairline, tracing it down to her soft cheeks and pinching them once.

"Mother," she warned.

Joy spread across the older woman's face as she embraced her flesh and blood daughter like there was no tomorrow, hoarsely crying, "my child!"

Suddenly, her cardigan was wet. Hotaru sighed and stroked her mother's hair as an offering of comfort. Once fair-haired, Mrs. Imai's locks were now coarse, loose and puffy. Hotaru almost could not believe that her mother had aged so fast. She believed she had never been deluded enough to think that time froze in Japan while she grew up in America, but the foreign texture of the elder Imai's skin and the weakness of her hold told Hotaru otherwise. Only the light scent of Jasmine brought about any kind of recollection. Hotaru was sure she had smelled that somewhere before.

"Eighteen years! Eighteen long years I haven't seen you, haven't heard from you. Let me take a good look at your face."

Her mother's quivering hands unwrapped around Hotaru's bony waist and slid up her arms in small, light, trembling touches. When she finally cupped Hotaru's face, the inventor could not help but put her own hands over her mother's.

Warm. Her touch was so warm.

Hotaru could see her mother's face entirely now. This tearing woman wore enigma. Her visage was like a piece of crumpled paper. No matter how much her mother's smile stretched and smoothed out her skin, the wrinkles still remained. Hotaru wanted them to be there. Behind the subtlest crease hid an elaborate story of this woman's life.

"You have," Hotaru whispered, "gotten so old."

The violet eyed genius reached out and, with mechanical precision, wiped away the water gathering at the edge of the senior Imai's eyes. Her cold hands burned at the touch. Hotaru nearly flinched away; she knew it was not comfortable for her mother to touch such a cold body. Yet if she had withdrawn her fingers, it would have broken her heart.

"The academy took you away from us for such a long time," Mrs. Imai said serenely, stroking Hotaru's cheeks with her thumbs. "And then the government sent you to America. All because my baby is an Alice! What misfortune we have! And now they've taken away Hikaru as well… You know, I've always wanted to raise a kid, and once—just once, from childhood, watch them grow up and hold their hand every step of the way." Her voice broke in between the words, slurring into noises that Hotaru could barely decipher. "But I'll never do that. They're always going to be after us, always going to rob us of our children."

Her mother's tears now streamed too rapidly for Hotaru to clear. Gently, she removed the senior's hands from her face, looping them around her neck instead as she enveloped the old woman into a tight hug. Though she wanted to regard her mother's face for a while longer, Hotaru supposed this was okay too. Oddly, she felt comfortable when Mrs. Imai's arms were around her; normally any kind of human contact had Hotaru fleeing for the hills.

Naturally, Subaru, armed with the worst timing possible, just had to poke his head of the house right then. "Mother, did she—mother!"

He flew out of the house at lightning speed, and was at their mother's side just as quickly. Delicately, Subaru lifted her face from Hotaru's shoulder and turned it towards him. "What happened?" Shaking his head, he quickly pulled a napkin from his coat pocket and began dabbing away the shiny wet streaks on her face.

"Oh nothing!" she trivialized with feigned lightheartedness. "It's just me making a spectacle of myself as usual."

Her poor excuse earned them both a long, hard stare. With a resigned shake of the head, Subaru decided to let the subject drop, turning their mother to guide her back into the house but not before shooting Hotaru a suspicious glance that almost made her raise both hands into the air in mock surrender. He jerked his chin at something behind her. She turned to look for a second, and saw a circle of middle-aged ladies curiously peering their way.

Hotaru understood. She quickly followed her family, taking extra care to shut the door just soundly enough for the busybodies to hear.

Whirling, the first thought that came to mind was how disproportionate she felt in the small, cramped space. Certainly, her parents' house had the same dollhouse feeling as Natsume's apartment. Hotaru wondered if it was just her mild case of claustrophobia that the corners were scaring her especially with the tricks they played on her eyes. If Hotaru looked too intently at any of them, she would start to see them closing in on her, but then she blinked a few times and they reverted to their default position.

Subaru and Mrs. Imai having left to deal with their respective chores, Hotaru was left to explore the bungalow on her own. She mentally drew a blueprint of the entire structure. There were three rooms attached to the left wall: one for her parents, one for Subaru, and one that was probably meant for her but ended up as a guest room. The right side of the living room was lined with two couches and had a broad, curtain-less window framed by rich mahogany wood. Occupying most of the remaining space was the huge circular tea table in the middle.

The house was built completely without a dining room so Hotaru assumed that they were going to have all their meals on the tea table while watching a hanging television across from the door. She found her mother in the kitchen, busy minding a huge pot of soup. They exchanged brief smiles before Hotaru continued her one-person tour. She found a refrigerator next to the kitchen and a door to the cellar next to the refrigerator, though a putrid stench came from below and Hotaru dared not venture underground. The only room left on the path was the bathroom, which basically consisted of a sink, toilet and shower stall cramped into a tiny space in that order.

Backtracking, Hotaru decided to unpack some of her stuff in the guest room since it was evidently where she was going to be staying for the next two days. To her surprise, however, she found the room already occupied by a full grown man with rounded spectacles emerged in a novel. Her father faced the window for its light, allowing her to gingerly creep behind him and peer over his text. If he noticed, he did not make it known. He seemed to be at leisure, flipping three whole pages until he reached the end of a chapter, and then closing his book.

The man set his spectacles down before saying anything. When he spoke, he was already rising from the chair, though he did it so slowly she would have aided him if he had not warded her off with his hand. "You startled me, Hotaru. I truly do not know what America has been teaching you. Almost two decades apart and you do not even speak up upon seeing your father."

Hotaru wondered briefly if her father had been born with Spidey senses, for she had been extra careful not to blow her cover. "It has been long," she coughed somewhat indignantly in her surprise. "I see that you are reading War and Peace, an excellent choice. I have read the English version myself. It is such a pity that I know neither Russian nor French, for nothing would have been more spectacular than reading a classic in its untranslated version."

"Yes. I myself tried to study several different languages since my retirement. However, my memory is simply not what it used to be," he mused, tapping his head twice. "Come, Hotaru. Have you smelled the crab soup your mother has been brewing since this morning? She seldom serves it anymore and I must admit that I quite miss it."

For his age, Mr. Imai was not half as frail as Mrs. Imai and walked as steadily as a young man. Hotaru accompanied him side by side out of the room, though she was careful to keep from touching him. Her father seemed to share her dislike for physical contact. At any given time, there was exactly one foot of space between her shoulder and his.

"Did we always eat in the living room?" she asked curiously as they joined Subaru on the couches. Her brother was preoccupied with reading the newspaper and Hotaru realized that if not for the different spectacle shapes, Subaru would look exactly like a younger clone of their father.

"For as long as I can remember. We always used to watch the evening news together. Now, as you can see, Subaru has taken the more traditional route to catch ear of what goes on in the big cities. He is the only one who ever reads the newspaper around here. There is a notable pile in the recycling bin. It puts a huge strain on my back, I tell you."

The young man snapped his paper shut. "Dad," he admonished, "you know I told you to wait for me to come and do the recycling."

Their father snorted. "Humph. How can I do that when you are barely here when it is light out? Your mother and I have too much spare time on our hands. We have to do something to fill up the hours."

Subaru sighed in a way that signaled that this was not the first time they had this argument. He set the papers down completely, rustling them as he folded and stacked them neatly on top of one another. "You know I have to make my way around four small villages every week. I'm the only doctor they have around here, and on top of that there's Sakura-ji. He's not getting any better, dad."

"Sakura-ji-san?" Hotaru piped up. "Is he related to Sakura Mikan-san?"

Subaru and Mr. Imai both shot her surprised looks. Hotaru closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, knowing that she had unintentionally and carelessly slipped up again.

"What is up with you?" Subaru probably did not mean it as an insult but it came out that way regardless. "Sakura-ji is Mikan's grandfather, you know that." He shook his head, disappointed, and Hotaru felt her cheeks heat up in a light sting. "In any case, he's been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease last year. So far the effects have been mild, but I'm afraid that they'll soon take a sharp turn for the worst. I don't know how much longer I can trust Itsuki-san with him. I imagine that I'll be moving in pretty soon, possibly before the end of the year."

"Then what about those other villages that you tend to on a daily basis?" she inquired.

Subaru winced, and Hotaru deducted that this was something he had been conflicted over for a while. "They'll have to make do," his voice was flat. "The trip from the farthest village here takes about half a day, far too long for me to leave Sakura-ji alone, and if his condition gets worse I can't trust anyone else with him."

Their father leaned back, resting his head and arms over the top of the couch. "Ah, everyone around here is getting too old too fast."

"I don't want to leave you and mother alone here either," Subaru said, shielding both eyes with a huge palm. "I worry about your state with me gone and Hotaru in Tokyo. Perhaps she could move here and keep an eye on you guys?"

Hotaru found her mouth going dry at the suggestion. For a moment, she deliberated the pros and cons of such a setup seriously. Yes, she would get the company that she had long yearned and yes she would like to have time to get to know her parents a little better. But then she looked around at the room again and tried to picture herself living day after day in this house. Suddenly, Subaru's apartment seemed much more appealing.

Besides, she had to make a living for herself. And the best way to do that was in the very heart of the industry. Hotaru was not lying about the goals she had told Ruka and though she had yet to start, she knew when she did that there would be no time to waste on trips to and fro from Nagoya to Tokyo. Something had to be sacrificed after all.

"I cannot," she objected quietly. "There is no way I will be able to keep an eye on mother and father unless they come to Tokyo to stay with me."

Subaru's chest which had been heaving up and down in quiet inhales now froze rigid. He straightened from his slump and slid the hand from his face, which had become marble white and strangely guarded. "No," the word came firm from lips that were also losing their colour by the minute, "they cannot go to Tokyo. I will not allow it."

"It is a reasonable solution," she argued, a little confused. "I have enough money to afford an apartment large enough for all three of us. With my fortune, we can live a suitable lifestyle even though things are considerably costlier in the city. And there are lots of community centres and parks around there. It is not as if they will ever be short of anything to do."

His mind was dead set. "Tokyo is a polluted city filled with scum."

"Subaru!" It was Mr. Imai this time. "Now you know I do not like the two of you arguing like this. We are to dwell no more on the subject. Your mother and I will fare fine on our own, as we always have. Do not judge us by our age."

"But—"

At that moment, Mrs. Imai came rushing out of the kitchen armed with two huge oven mittens, tightly gripping the handles of a giant pot brimmed with steaming liquid. She blew at the steam as she took small, careful steps to prevent anything from spilling over. It was only when she reached the table that she finally realized something.

"Quick, quick! Set down the food mat."

Subaru glanced stupidly around the room, searching for the said food mats. When he could not find them, he got up and rushed over into the kitchen, before returning emptyhanded. "I can't find it, mother. Just use the newspapers."

She looked to the ceiling. "Subaru! Stop torturing your ma! They're on top of the refrigerator, sheesh! If you can't find them, come and hold this and I'll go get them myself."

"No, I'll get them." Hotaru could have sworn that he was fighting to keep a mischievous grin from spreading across his face. And sure enough, this time he did find them—four white and black checkered mats that were placed on the tea table for the giant pot alone.

With the food out and television on, the four of them circled the table, eating and drinking merrily. There was something magical about her mother's food. After the first spoonful of soup reached her stomach, Hotaru began feeling warmth and joy fill up another vital organ just a little further north. Her heart, for some reason, pumped with glee throughout the meal and only sped up when she periodically caught her mother's eyes drifting her way. Mrs. Imai often blushed and pretended to focus on the television instead.

"Mother, you were staring at me," she finally called her bluff with a small, teasing nudge.

The older woman's cheeks tinged pink again. She stuck her chopsticks into her bowl of rice repeatedly, absentmindedly. "Oh, yes. I know. It's just that it feels so fantastic to see you again, alive and well and not a dream. Sometimes I'm afraid that if I look away, you'll disappear somewhere again." She sighed into her food. "I can't believe that you're only staying until Monday. Can't you spend next week with us too?"

Hotaru suddenly found a crab claw to be the most interesting object in the world. "I am sorry."

"We're never going to see you for long, are we?" she languished. "It makes me so happy to have you in this house, eating my food. Here, take seconds!" She busied herself with scooping ladles of soup into Hotaru's bowl. The latter had to shake her head amusingly at this, partly because she felt like her stomach was going to burst with one more spoonful and partly because she was secretly overjoyed at the sight of her mother ecstatic like never before.

* * *

><p>The small village of Nagoya was in no way short of natural, authentic beauty. From gracefully curving rivers to tall, majestic mountains and succulent fields in which cattle grazed, the open space here was perpetual. If one kept walking on the single dirt path that all houses and stores lined on, one would eventually find herself on top of a hill overlooking a cemetery and a huge, flat horizon. It was on that hill that Hotaru had spent Sunday evening with her family.<p>

Her mother, while nibbling a homemade meat bun, pointed at the great mountain to the west and told Hotaru of her childhood with it. Many years ago, people had wanted to demolish it to expand urban land but she, along with Hotaru's father and some other tree-huggers managed to save it valiantly in the end. Now it was owned by a rich woman who had built a homely cottage on the mountaintop.

"We met her once," she remarked. "She was the most beautiful lady I've ever seen, and she came with that city girl aura that you have around you." Her mother giggled at the memory; Hotaru got to know her enough during the two days to know that she was quite besotted by the stereotypical image of a city girl. "When she bought the piece of land, she had been newly widowed without children. She stayed in the countryside for a year, eager to escape her duties. Apparently her job was very troublesome though high paying. She did eventually go back though. She reminded me a lot of you."

"Did she look like me?"

"No, she did not. Not at all," Mr. Imai decided.

Subaru's throat and arms had tensed by this point, and the hair on the back of his neck was standing. Hotaru knew he must have been quite considerably spaced out when he stared straight into the setting sun with his glasses on. But she had gotten used to it by now. There were a lot of subjects that made him tense up; her brother was somewhat of a pain in the derriere, as well as an unsolved puzzle. She wondered what kind of life he had had during the fifteen years that she had been away to make him so ornery and close-minded about everything surrounding him.

"Oh, she was a lot older," explained Hotaru's mother, "and her hair was long. She always kept it in this perfect ponytail, not one strand sticking out. She looked really smart, that woman, just like my baby!"

Subaru sighed something long and heavy. "Can we not talk about her?"

With tight smiles, the subject had been dropped. When Hotaru later asked her father about his puzzling behaviour, the older Imai explained that while the lady had been generally liked by the townspeople, Subaru maintained a firm dislike—bordering on enmity—for her. He had refused to divulge the reason to anyone who had asked, and since the villagers held high respect for him they refrained from speaking of her in front of him.

It was then that Hotaru, with an eye-roll, decided that her brother was completely and utterly hopeless.

* * *

><p>One violet eye blinked open in the dead of the night.<p>

There was a dim, flickering light penetrating through the crack beneath the door that successfully kept Hotaru from getting any shuteye. Whoever was outside was probably using a candle. The light had been flickering sporadically for twenty minutes straight now. She could barely stop herself from investigating the scene any longer, but Hotaru knew that once she physically got up it would be near impossible to go back to sleep again. And her train was leaving at the crack of dawn.

After five more minutes, she finally gave in and creaked open the door to the living room.

Hotaru was completely taken by surprise to see none other than her mother in a pile on the floor, nightgown rippling. Next to Mrs. Imai, the flame of a beeswax candle made flickers of light and shadow on the wall. The woman slid her hands along the tiles as if arranging something in front of her. She was so preoccupied with her task that she did not even notice Hotaru approaching her.

It was the inventor's own shadow that gave her away.

Gasping in terror, her mother swiveled in fright, trying to cover up whatever she had in front of her. To Hotaru's dismay, she showed no signs of recovering from the deer in headlights look even after seeing that it was only her daughter.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" mumbled Hotaru, already feeling her eyes droop.

"I was just… just…"

Hotaru knelt next to the mountains of photographs Mrs. Imai unsuccessfully tried to hide. She had been lining them neatly next to each other, presumably in chronological order. The array of pictures extended halfway across the room, and took up a good quarter of living room space. From the size of a more haphazard pile, Hotaru could see that she was nowhere near finished with this sorting.

"I-I don't know what came over me," admitted her mother. "I couldn't sleep and I suddenly had an urge to do this. So I told myself I'd pick out a few photographs for you to take home. And then… and then I don't know what happened. I got too caught up in the—in the memories."

Hotaru was only half listening to her mother's explanation. Upon examining the time line of photos, she saw one picture that begged her full attention as soon as she set eyes on it. Carefully, she fingered it by the edges and tilted it towards the candlelight.

_So this is what Subaru's son looks like…_

It was hard to tell how old Hikaru had been when this was taken. She estimated him to be around three or four, only his eyes were much too dull for a child of that age. He looked like someone who had just recently discovered the cruelty of the adult world. She could immediately tell that he had no interest in toys. Neither did he in any other pleasurable activities, it seemed. There were plenty of village kids happily prancing around in the school courtyard behind him but all Hikaru did was stand there with his dark blue lunch bag possessively clasped in his hands.

Even then, the boy undeniably resembled Subaru. He inherited the trademark eyes of the Imai family; at that, Hotaru smiled. His tidy gray hair, maintained short and just above his ears, obviously came from him. It, like his father's, was extremely flat and did not stick out in any way. But his sharp, angled eyebrows she did not recognize and his arms and legs were much more twig-like than her brother's. In fact, Hikaru was just thin and tall in general while Subaru had always had a broader, sturdier build.

"Do you remember that school building?" asked her mother, a brilliant beam spread across her features.

Hotaru shook her head. She had been so busy examining Hikaru that she neglected to take notice of his surroundings in the photograph.

"Why, this is your old elementary school! It's prospering. Oh, I still remember the day you decided to leave for Alice Academy to save that building. And as soon as you came to me, I knew that my little Hotaru wasn't really mine anymore."

"I will always be your daughter."

"Of course you will. I didn't get to see you grow up is all. And there's another child I'll never have that privilege with. You see that boy in the picture? That's Hikaru. He's going to be really handsome once he grows up, isn't he? You can just tell. Subaru never lacked in the looks department, and Naomi is a _very_ lovely woman. To think I won't ever see him, won't ever hear from him until he's eighteen. Another decade gone, wasted waiting!"

She was absolutely enraptured by the child. "Tell me about him."

"Hikaru… why, he only spent a year with us. Naomi wanted him to complete his education in Tokyo. It's amazing how much he takes after Subaru in nearly every aspect but his smile. His smile is identical to Naomi's. Let's see… if I recall correctly, he inherited both their tempers. My grandson seldom threw tantrums but when he did, oh, the entire neighbourhood would never hear the end of it!

"You know, he got the most endearing trait from his father: he was always the first to care for the injured. Once, I came down with a spring cold and he tried to make chicken noodle soup for me. Subaru, afraid that he'd burn the house down, hauled him away from the kitchen and took over. The poor kid was heartbroken for the longest time!"

Hotaru smiled, picturing the boy in the picture scurrying around the room, biting his lip and trying to decide which spice to put in the pot next. She pictured him at odds with her brother, stubbornly glaring at the older version of himself. She pictured them holding hands with another woman, Subaru's mysterious ex-wife. She pictured him sleeping serenely inside the room with yellow walls. And then she saw it again, empty. "When was he taken?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't know… Sometime after his mother and father split? Naomi is the very woman I envisioned Subaru to marry: strong, unyielding, fierce but with a blazing heart. They were so happy together, the two of them. But even that paled to what she felt when the government demanded her son. We tried so hard to conceal it! And yet somehow that doesn't matter. Somehow, it still leaked. It always does. They _always_ find out. They probably send people to keep close eyes Alice families, in case the children inherit any powers. They pestered Subaru and Naomi every day nonstop to send Hikaru to Alice Academy. That was what distanced them, you see."

Hotaru gritted her teeth, feeling the familiar sting she had felt that day that Chiaki visited her to explain all her "privileges." Of course it would be _those_ people at the root of all anguish. If it was not Japan, then it was America. Choosing between Alice Academy and Irving Academy was the same as choosing between a rock and a hard place, and that was if she _had_ the choice in the first place. Oh, how she hated the government, hated the entire Alice system. Children should not be separated from their families at such a young age. They did not deserve to be robbed of their childhood, to be thrown in a cage without any knowledge of how to thrive in the outside world.

She conjured the picture of that nightmare for the first time, willing Natsume's steady fire to burn down everything in sight, to burn down the constricting walls on all sides and free every single child from that very same nightmare.

"Alice Academy," Hotaru remarked after snapping back to reality, "is rather hypocritical, is it not? Their supposed purpose is to protect Alices from being misused, yet there is so much corruption inside those walls itself."

Mrs. Imai nodded. "Which mother would willingly send their child into a cage? Naomi told me again and again that she was going to fight them, but is it even possible to fight against such a powerful, organized structure? I would oppose them if I could, but I don't even know where to start! I hate being unable to do anything but hope to see little Hikaru again."

With one last defeated sigh, Hotaru stood and her mother started gathering up all the pictures.

* * *

><p>Here are the things I've never been able to understand about Gakuen Alice. From a rational perspective, it's rather discriminatory and unreasonably reclusive. I mean, if you take the segregation of African American slaves in the mid 1900s or the Jewish during the Holocaust—though perhaps not as extreme, and compare it to this, there is practically nothing different. They're all confined in ghettos. It's still majority against minority. And minority almost always loses.<p>

But yet this is a story marketed towards kids, and in the ten thousand something fanfics not one of them has expanded on this idea, this flaw. Not that I like to get into the habit of criticizing Fanfiction, but it would be nice to read something captivating sans romance once in a while.

And a little bit of trivia to end this on a happier note: Nagoya is actually the third largest city of Japan, not a small village somewhere up north.

Please review, fave and alert!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	7. The Two Faces of Alacrity

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Seven: The Two Faces of Alacrity

* * *

><p>Fret and fright frequently came hand in hand, Hotaru thought. Otherwise, it would be hard pressed to explain why every time she sought out a piece of paper and pencil, her hands trembled like nobody's business.<p>

Over a period of two weeks, she lost count of how many times she had been determined to attempt the impossible, only to end up crouching on the couch or bed or floor, rocking back and forth in that all too familiar but comforting motion. And every time she became aware of it, she bit her lip harder. Her will seemingly steeled a little more. Then, come the next time she attempted to put pen to paper and the cycle repeated itself.

Hotaru Imai could not go through with something that set herself up for failure.

For perhaps the fiftieth time, she crumpled up a piece of paper and dug her nails into the fibers, slowly and rigorously ripping the ball apart.

Her eyes teared up slightly from insomnia. Or maybe she was feeling a little emotional then. Probably a gruesome combination of both. Needless to say, it was bothering her significantly that she could not make a simple request to have her nephew leave the academy for a little while, just a little while so that she—and more importantly, her mother—could see and confirm his well-being. These pathetic attempts disrupted the entire equilibrium of her life's rhythm.

Hotaru now had two pictures in front of her, one that she cherished deeply and another that she wanted to tear into a thousand shreds before sending to the depths of hell. With trembling fingers, she turned the trophy picture over in its frame and shortly after dropped it face down on the ground. The other, unframed picture she caressed and picked up carefully.

For some reason, her mother had entrusted her with this. It could be said that she also entrusted Hikaru's well-being into Hotaru's hands, as Hotaru was currently situated a little less than five miles from where the boy dwelled.

Wasting no time, she got down to work. By now it was almost a daily routine. She rolled her neck three times, twice clockwise and once counterclockwise. One out of four routines, she would crack her neck. This was not one of those times. Next, she interlaced her fingers and stretched her arms and hands out as far as possible until it felt like her very nerves were coming undone. Hotaru needed this feeling. Only excruciating pain could overpower the apprehension of failure.

Her teeth sank deep enough into her lip to draw blood when she finally gathered the courage to pick up that fountain pen. Several rough drafts sprawled in front of her on the desk. All Hotaru had to do was take a few select sentences from each one, arrange them into a persuasive argument and goddamn clench the pen in a way so that it would stop shaking already.

Furiously, she slammed it down with a passion and gripped the edge of the desk hard enough for her nails to make permanent dentures in the wood. Her mind was doing something along the lines of repeating mild curse words and rhetorical questions over and over.

As she always did to calm herself, Hotaru stared at the picture of Hikaru. Her eyes met his, though his were frozen in time. Gradually but surely, her breathing slowed and heart calmed until she no longer felt like she was going to have a spontaneous seizure. Now she was berating herself for chickening out—before she even started, no less. She had gotten this far so how hard was it to just take that final leap of faith?

Apparently very.

The thought of a shadowy figure ripping her heartfelt letter into shreds made Hotaru nauseous.

___… I__f you fail. You're _worthless_ if you fail. Worthless. No one needs you, Imai. No one wants you, Imai. So if you hadn't done what you did, if you hadn't been a genius, you might as well have rotted in Irving Academy. That girl, Mikan Sakura, never wanted you. You never would have met Janine. She never would have wanted you. You would have _rotted_ into a heap of bone._

Back and forth. Back and forth she rocked silently in her chair, clutching her head and all the venomous thoughts that surged through. Along with the comfort came a small light of hope and one sane thought: _b__ut I thought it got better_… c_learly it did not._

She needed that feeling, the wonderful coolness of her fingers as she wrapped her hands around the stem of the troph—no, no, no, no. She did not. She needed closure. She needed Janine. Subaru. Alcohol. Just, someone, something.

At the thought of her brother, his words drifted back into her mind, somewhat a lot more detached than what she remembered, _"and the moral of this story is to lighten up, little sister, because no one likes talking to a robot."_

_I am not a robot, she chanted internally, I am not a robot. I simply cannot deal with failure. But I am not a robot. I am not a robot… I am not…_ She suddenly caught Hikaru's eyes again, the eyes that were devoid of the mirthful laughter that all children should be blessed with. In that moment, the cold sweat ceased and the inventor froze. _But I do not want you to… do not become like me… oh god, oh god, please do not become like me._

The path her nephew was destined to travel down, it was not a path he deserved at all. She, who knew all too well what lied at the end of it, would never let him take that route; she would do absolutely everything in her power to build up an insurmountable wall so that he would have no choice but to turn away. Which brought her back to the letter. Which brought her back to her phobia.

She almost whimpered.

But Imais did not whimper. They faced danger straight on. They conquered it. So in the event that her letter failed to carry out its purpose—and Hotaru more than cringed at the mere thought—then she would once again be forced to face her fear. She would have to receive the blunt of the damage and then throw herself back into the fray. All just to get him out of there.

_What was Subaru thinking?_ Hotaru thought furiously, grinding her teeth into fine powder. _How could he have let them take him? What can I—how can I even__…___

In a quiet corner of an empty apartment, a berated soul was slowly coming undone.

* * *

><p>She had no idea how she was going to smuggle it within the walls.<p>

She had no idea who to even address this letter to.

They would never listen to a former rebel anyways.

No doubt all of this would make its way somehow to the ARC Department, and they would send detested personnel like Chiaki over to her again, that lying weasle.

Excuse after excuse piled on until one day, when Hotaru had been frying eggs, she suddenly came to the realization that if she were to collect all of them, she could have written and published a fifty-paged essay by now. She herself was the very embodiment of procrastination, and procrastination of the worst kind. Almost like a teenager dreading to hand the less than satisfactory report card over to her strict and overbearing parents.

Scowling, Hotaru immediately switched off the fire. Her routine of comfort did not even come close to being on her mind as she fetched a piece of paper and pencil and just spilled out every thought swimming around in the pile of goo that was her brain.

Only, it went something like

_You imbeciles,_

_Let us avoid beating around the bush completely and address the issue right off the bat. I do not care if Alices are national treasures or whatever other fraudulent claim you choose to make. You will destroy that wretched school without question and you will stop the unjust segregation and discrimination of children. You will stop teaching them to be prejudiced against those who had the fortune of not being 'gifted.' You will stop dispatching minors on hazardous missions in name of dirty so-called justice. You will stop putting these children under the false impression that the academy is all they have, that the system is all they have, and tworthless will otherwise amount to nothing._

_And you will not, under_ any _circumstance,__ so much as lay a single finger on my nephew._

_Signed,  
>Imai Hotaru<em>

Oh, it was the highway exit straight off of confinement and surveillance right onto a black list. Hotaru imagined she would have to start packing her bags now if she planned on sending that letter and giving them a piece of her mind. However impractical it was, as she held it up, angling the piece of paper towards the sunlight, she felt a heavy weight lift from her chest. Which was strange, because normally acting on impulse had Hotaru at edge; normally, it meant slipping up, failure to upkeep her blasé façade.

There was a rather lively spark inside of her though, a feeling Hotaru recognized immediately but had not encountered for many years.

Inspiration was back.

Feeling like she was on top of the world, the inventor scurried around the apartment that smelled of fried eggs, gathering some implements here, some photos there, and not to forget the many drafts and pieces of blank paper she had agonized over for so long. Everything was slapped not on the table but the floor in front of her, spread out like five different sets of lecture notes a weeks before the final exam.

When her pen tip touched the paper, it glided. Words materialized in a way that she could not describe. She had the diligence of a printing machine, etching tens of words by the second, and yet her grace was unparalleled by even the most beautiful figure skating routine. Every letter came out aligned and consistent, every i was dotted and every t was crossed. All the commas had tails of the same length, swimming in the letter like identical tadpoles. At first glance, no one would have been able to tell that it was manually printed.

After signing her name with pride, Hotaru returned to the top. _Dear—_she wrote grudgingly and subsequently paused.

Right. It was one of the problems—excuses, depending on how she chose to put it, that she encountered. Her pen fell with a clatter to the ground but she was careful to drop it far away from the unblemished essay. Hotaru shifted her kneel so that she sat flat on her butt, legs crossed. Two fingers found that tight notch between her eyebrows and rubbed gentle circles soothingly.

Alice Academy was a jungle, the biggest jungle she had ever known. Aside from all the political nonsense, which indubitably deserved a category of its own, the faculty themselves also had self interests; this fact was practically broadcasted to the entire country or whomever in Japan that knew of Alices during the coup d'état—read: Rebellion—where it was literally each man for himself. Not to mention that Kuonji himself had been a renown figure of Alice Politics before he became a bad egg. In short, she was forced to assume that every entity behind those walls had an ambition of their own. Vicious beasts bode for an opportune chance to strike, while mellower creatures traipsed about with little to no harm. Either way, if Hotaru was not careful, she could be savagely torn apart and devoured.

Admittedly, that did not create a good image after all she had been put through. She did not escape one jungle to charge headfirst into another. With her battle scars unhealed, it would be imminent suicide.

The papers were on the verge of being stacked and shoved into a drawer when her ringtone sharply sliced through the silent room.

Hotaru extended a lazy arm to fetch her phone before rolling her eyes and setting it down on the tea table. It was an unknown caller, probably another telemarketer or mislead call. Either way, the only people she ever graced with an answer were Janine, Tom, Ross, her family, and coworkers who warned her a well ahead of time.

But when it rang again, and then a third time, Hotaru felt her already transient inspiration slipping away that much faster. Serenity gave way to agitation as she answered the phone call, ready to bark out barrages of insults at whoever had the misfortune of being on the other end before blocking the said person. If this was another telemarketer, some company had better prepare for bankruptcy.

"What?" Her eyes flared.

"Cool Blue—er, Hotaru-san?"

Immediately, Hotaru's lips thinned. She let go of the air and tension inside her body, losing all hope upon hearing the completely scatterbrained, clueless baritone. To date, she could not figure out how she ever managed to summon the hefty amount of patience that she did in order to last five minutes of conversation with him. Her instinctive thought, though, was that she did not want to deal with whatever tomfoolery he had called her up for, so she put on a pretense of obliviousness.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Oh, hi! I'm Matsudaira Hayate. Remember me? Hayate from the party?" The man chucked awkwardly at the end of each sentence.

Her eyes closed resignedly. Could he even hear himself? A completely smitten man he was, sickening, unadulterated infatuation oozing out between every word. Not that Hotaru did not have a great deal of suitors in America. She just preferred to__…_ _ignore them. "Yes I do," she responded, hoping—praying desperately—that he would hang up any moment now and leave her in peace, a prospect much too good to be true. "How did you get my number?" As soon as the words left her lips, a precarious thought surfaced and her tone became sharp, "do not tell me that Hayami-san provided you with it."

"Actually, uh, he did—but it wasn't his fault you see! I kind of paid him, so he had to_…_"

Just when she thought that it could not get any worse_… _Hotaru silently cursed herself for trusting the private investigator with as much as she had. She just _knew_ that somehow it would all come and bite her in the derriere one day. One frustrated hand raked through her hair as she pondered on what she possibly could have done to lead that single-celled organism to believe he would have a chance with her.

"Uh, Hotaru-san, are you still there?"

"Yes. I am waiting for your answers to my questions."

"Oh right, heh." She could imagine him scratch the back of his neck sheepishly as he tried to think of the right words to say to her. In fact, every action she imagined Hayate executing ended up looking rather sheepish—this owing to the fact that the very man was abnormally sheepish himself. "Actually, um, it's about Friday. D-did I frighten you away or something? I'm really sorry about that."

Hotaru hated being on the receiving end of someone's affections. If it were any other case, she would have graciously accepted the apology and ended it right there. Since this was Hayate, and Hayate was a straight up moron, she might as well be digging her own grave by taking the usual route. Hotaru was one hundred percent sure accepting his apology would give him false hope, which meant that Hayate would just be another liability to stick around for who knows how long.

This askew conversation had to be steered carefully back onto smooth pavement. Oh, how she dreaded and abhorred drama of the romantic kind. "I appreciate the initiative, Matsudaira-san. As for Friday, I am sure we can put it all behind us. You really need not feel so inclined to apologize, especially since we hardly know each other after all."

"No, no, no, no, no!" his zealous objection sunk Hotaru's hopes quite akin to how the iceberg sunk Titanic. "We did know each other! We knew each other very well in the academy and we were even partners during the Rebellion! And you were so cool, so beautiful. You were my idol—are, I mean. You're still my idol now."

Well that cleared up some things. No wonder Hayate was so persistent; the man had been deluded for all these years! Hotaru fought back a shudder at the unintentional envision of herself through Hayate's eyes, glorified one thousand times over. Well, she certainly needed to set him straight. Though she was never a good judge of character, even she knew that she was not a good person. And far too screwed in the head for a man like him to handle.

While she contemplated the best way to approach the situation, the man continued on, completely unaware in his shroud of bliss, "I'm really sorry I didn't know that you lost your memories. But um, if you want to go out for tea sometime."

"Matsudaira-san."

"Y-yes?"

She positioned her tongue in between her teeth in preparation to give him the truth in a nutshell. "First of all, it has been fifteen years since the Rebellion. I do not recall ever being anywhere with you, so right now everything you tell me is news. That being said, presently I do not feel any inclination or any other emotion for that matter towards you. For you to ask me out is completely out of the blue and frankly, I do not know whether you really intend on revisiting memories or whether you just want to make a good impression on me. I can assure you, though, if it is the latter then your efforts are in vain."

"Uh_…_"

"I am not one to be swayed by touching stories. I put faith in my head first and my heart second. Simple heartwarming tales that took place over a decade ago have little to no meaning to me. That is then. This is now. So if you really do wish to court me, you will have to raise yourself to my standards, which means that ideally you will one day be a Chief Executive Officer of a company or any equally influential position. Can you ever see yourself like that?"

Hayate was stunned into silence. The stiff atmosphere widened the chasm between them little by little and Hotaru relaxed, for when his voice spoke again it was small and weak. "No."

"Do you invest in the stock market?"

"No."

"Have your assets even reached a value of one million US dollars?"

"How much is that?"

"Roughly eighty million yen."

"_What?_ No! Where would I get all that money?"

"What is your IQ?"

"I don't know. W-wait, I'll take an IQ test for you!"

She shook her head, although he could not see it, but she imagined that he was envisioning some equally dismaying action coming from her. By now the patience was wearing off, and she itched to press the end call button as soon as possible. "You satisfy none of the standards that I have set. How could you possibly hope for us to be in a relationship of _any_ sort?"

"Well, I—"

"With all due respect, Matsudaira-san," Hotaru interjected, "you, like Hyuuga, are wasting too much time, money, and resources on a woman who is not interested in the least. Please withdraw your interest at once and pursue more suitable choices for a man such as you. The next time you see Hayami-san, remind him not to freely divulge my private number again—else I will deem it necessary to deal with him on my personal time."

"I—w-w-wait, Hotaru-san don't hang up yet!" Her finger paused over the red button as she shut her eyes, extracting the last of her dwindling patience out of that small reserve. "I-um, I know it doesn't sound like much but I seriously like you! I'll do anything if you just come with me somewhere for one time. Please! Not even as a date. We could go as friends. I just_…_"

"Anything." The word rolled smoothly off of her tongue.

"I-uh-um, yeah."

Hotaru clutched her papers tightly, skimming over the letter to Alice Academy for one last time. If she suffered two weeks of sheer agony just for that minuscule chance to whisk her nephew out of the academy, then she could do this—and practice her patience while she was at it. "All right," she conceded slowly, "there is one favour I could ask of you."

Was it even possible to feel glee seeping through a microphone?

"Since I have been away from Japan for too lengthy a time, I have no idea of anything that is going on inside the gates of Alice Academy. It would seem, however, that word gets around in the Alice Funding Organization. I am certain you have a spy of some sort inside the academy walls and I need you to deliver a letter to an open-minded, influential member of the faculty, ideally one of the impartial principles."

"No problem!" he chirped, and for a second Hotaru could just see those agonizing days in reach again. Dare she expect anything other than failure from a man characterized by levity? The inventor hoped that she would not have to find out the hard way.

Somehow, she could not dispel the unease that crept into her heart as she gave him her address and told him to meet her alone in her apartment on the first Tuesday of June.

* * *

><p>Another piece of paper fluttered to the floor that was basked with the golden sunlight of dusk. It settled right on top of a small stack of orthographically detailed sketches of intricate parts and machinery perfectly, almost defying the laws of physics. Then again, to do otherwise would subject it to the wrath of Hotaru Imai. Physics never stood a chance.<p>

Internally, the inventor paid little mind to the order of her apartment, or even what she was absentmindedly sketching with her autopiloting hand. Her mind was more occupied with a seething countdown. The pen stilled at the exact moment the clock struck seven, the same moment Hotaru rose to her feet and the same moment that her Blackberry started ringing.

She wasted no time. "Where are you?"

"Hotaru-san!" chirped a completely oblivious Hayate quite characteristically and also quite infuriatingly. "I am _so_ sorry about the lateness! We're coming to your apartment right now! Expect us in five more minutes!"

About to spiel off into a long tangent detailing the number of reasons why Hayate should not have been late, Hotaru paused. "We?"

"Oh, yes! Right, I'm bringing my friend over! Sorry I forgot to tell you! I was waiting for her at the airport!" As he chippered on, her eyes strayed to the translucent curtains sashaying above an air vent. Hotaru suddenly had an urge to rip them right off their hinges.

"Matsudaira," she growled, noting that it was the second person in two months who had lost the privilege of having an honourific attached to his name. Really, she needed to up her tolerance, not that Hayate did not serve as good practice already. "May I remind you that you personally told me you would come three hours ago and that you did not phone or give me any warning whatsoever about the lateness. Do you know what I have been doing for the past three hours? Sketching designs. If I put end to end the amount paper I have gone through, it would be two times the length of the Great Wall of China."

"But I'm sorry Hotaru-san!" he whined.

"It is Imai-san to you."

"Hotaru-san," and as usual, her demands were completely and utterly ignored, "you'll really like Shizune! Really! You two used to be great friends back in Alice Academy! She taught you about photography and stuff."

Hotaru was, quite frankly, at a loss. Always, she had believed that the best approach to life was just to spit things out. All situations should be dealt with head on; things like euphemisms, preludes and beating around the bush were unneeded, unwelcome and usually brought about unnecessary drama. Life was easy like that, had always been easy like that. Except when facing a boneheaded idiot who habitually displaced reality at his convenience.

"Matsudaira," the inventor growled, "listen to me for a second." Hayate actually paused, a startling first. "Right now, you are coming into my house, onto my property which rightfully belongs to me—" which _really_ belonged to Subaru but that was a minor detail. "In doing so, I expect you to respect my opinions and I do not want anyone else with us when I put this manila envelope into your hand. No one else. Do you understand?"

"We're going up!"

He was tugging at the last strand of her patience. "Do not make this a burden."

The line went dead. Hotaru lifted the phone off of her ear and glared at it with a vengeance, as if it were the device's fault that Hayate was the way he was. She seriously contemplated throwing away the plan in favour of blocking his number once and for all when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Grabbing the envelope, she made her way over with a deep breath.

Taking rightful precautions, she raised to her tiptoes and peeked through the peephole, only to be completely startled when she saw a small pupil suspended in an enlarged schlera also drawn up to the peephole but on the other side. Hotaru almost squeaked as she jumped back at the horrifying sight. Her fleeting composure fled completely as she wrung open the door with two twitching eyes. The surprise made her see red.

"Why hello Imai-san," a pleasing voice greeted as Shizune placed two stacked hands on top of her lap and arched her graceful back into a well-practiced bow. "Good evening to you."

Scowling, Hotaru stepped outside slowly, closing her apartment door behind her. She directed all her fury towards Hayate. "Were you listening to our phone call or was I the only one in that conversation?"

He grinned stupidly.

Shizune straightened into a statuesque stance once more. "It is not his fault, my dear. Allow me to explain. My flight back from France was inconveniently delayed for two hours and so I am very grateful to him for picking me up despite having a prearrangement. When he told me of it, I insisted on accompanying to extend a personal invitation from Harada Misaki to you."

The woman's meek smile and silky voice relaxed Hotaru somewhat. She was puzzled and yet pleased at the same time with Shizune's presence, like a cat getting an ear scratch from a complete stranger. The shining gray eyes and delicate but proud air about the woman brought forth some sort of comfort. She figured it was because she was used to talking to people of Shizune's pedigree. But then there was something different. The woman herself made Hotaru at ease despite Hayate being within two feet of her.

"Is that so?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes confusedly at the feeling. Somewhere in the very back of her mind, an inner voice disparaged her for lowering her guard in front of a stranger.

"Why yes." The woman nodded in a manner that could only be described as passive. "I only heard the joyous news a few days ago. Misaki just found out she's pregnant. All Alice women are invited to her tea party this Sunday, two to whenever."

The inventor's response was practiced and perfunctory. "Thank you for the invite, Yamanouchi-san, but I am afraid that after that particular dinner I am reluctant to put myself in the company of more than five Alices at a time. I hope you understand. I send Harada-san my greatest apologies and congratulations for this fortuitous event."

"Ah, but Misaki entrusted me to bring you there. She's making her best earl gray and jasmine for the occasion. Are you sure you don't want to come? It's a delightful event, full of women who just sit down and exchange exclusive information on what's been happening in the Alice world lately. Think of it as an informal board meeting to kind of monitor and decide what we should do next. In terms of AFO of course."

Oh, Hotaru's instincts had been right on: this woman was cunning indeed. She stared right into the face of danger, a rather angelic visage with twinkling eyes and confidence of her attending RSVP. Indeed, Shizune's offer was hard to refuse. If everything the older woman said were to be put into cartoon speech bubbles, "exclusive information" would have been bolded, italicized _and_capitalized. Hotaru was a sucker for that.

Feeling quite like the cat that fell prey to curiosity, she replied coolly, "is that so?"

Shizune's smile widened.

Hayate looked back and forth between the two women, completely and blissfully unaware of the internal battle that went on in between the lines of the conversation. Even more so, he was almost sinfully oblivious to the inner, inner internal battle raging on within Hotaru's head about whether she should really trust the enigma that was Shizune.

"I do not understand," Hotaru finally spoke. "Harada-san and I are not well acquainted."

"She considers you to be a close friend," was all that Shizune offered. Hotaru figured that she would have to work with that rather than peel back layers of onion skin.

"All right, I concede."

The smile widened into a grin. "That's what I wanted to hear. I will come and pick you up half past one then. Be assured. Unlike Hayate here, I won't be late or I will at least give a heads up if I am."

She nudged him and he indignantly flushed.

"On the off chance that I won't be able to make it, here's her address," she further informed, handing Hotaru a cue card.

Fingering the thick paper, the inventor stared into the neat penmanship and then back into Shizune's seemingly innocent eyes. Hotaru was certain this was no ordinary woman. Shizune knew from the get go just which strings to pull to make Hotaru's attend. Either that, or she was a woman well prepared in every aspect of life. Quite like the violet-eyed genius herself.

"Were you in the technical class?"

The gray-haired lady was quite pleased with herself. "You were also in the technical class. I was your upperclassman, remember?"

What Hotaru really got from that was _I was your teacher_. Cue card and manila envelope tightly clutched in one hand, she wrapped her arms around herself, allowing an amiable smile to graze her lips as she looked into Shizune's face. Their expressions mirrored each other and a silent understanding was achieved between the two empowered women. Her smile widening, Hotaru closed her eyes and shook her head. Compared to Shizune, she was slightly inferior after all. Just slightly.

Surprisingly, it was something Hotaru could live with.

"Take this," she instructed Hayate sternly and openly despite Shizune's presence. "Do not lose it. Follow my instructions and remember to report back to me in a month."

"Aye aye!" he exclaimed, sailor saluting her as he backed up the corridor aside Shizune, who already had her back turned to Hotaru comfortably. Hayate walked backwards the entire way, keeping his eyes locked on the inventor and grinning hopelessly.

She shook her head one last time before stepping back into an empty room that was now shadowed by the blanket of night.

Although, in retrospect, Hotaru should have anticipated then and there the failure of an otherwise well orchestrated ploy.

* * *

><p>As an early request, please don't ask if this story will be HotaruRuka or Hotaru/Hayate. It will be neither. Both men have a different role and impact on her life. Both men are important to her and to the story in different ways, and not necessarily romantic ways either.

Let's put it this way: the main pairing here, if any, is Natsume/Mikan.

Please alert, fave, review!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	8. Omens of the Foreboding Storm

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Eight: Omens of the Foreboding Storm

* * *

><p>Alarm bells should have gone off in Hotaru's head the minute Shizune casually revealed that she worked as an Alice diplomat during their drive. Instead, she rather took it in stride, only uttering a neutral "oh" before lapsing into a bout of silence. From Shizune's lack of reaction, Hotaru deducted that she was in the dark about the inventor's particular grudge against government personnel. She herself had a hard time believing it. What were the chances, really, that one of the only two Alices she approved of in Natsume's little ring of friends turned out to be the most troublesome to befriend?<p>

Hotaru's head floated for a moment.

She shifted, sliding an arm under her breasts to prop the other elbow on. Pressing her mouth into her palm, Hotaru peeked at Shizune's face and assessed her situation. The woman had a faint smile on her lips, one that optimists maintained from day to day without really thinking about it. So far, she had taken care not to show any obvious partiality to the inventor, but…

It was fairly obvious Shizune was fond of her.

Just as Hotaru was fond of the other woman.

"Wakamurasaki-no-kimi," mumbled Shizune offhandedly, startling Hotaru. The latter's hand slipped off of her mouth in a lapse of composure at the abrupt mention of the purple flower. Shizune's gray eyes flashed to the rear view mirror, increasing her confusion.

"I am sorry?"

"Wakamurasaki," the woman repeated thoughtfully. "Taken from _The Tale of Genji, _itis a majestic purple flower, in the sense that even the Japanese aristocrats used to wear robes dyed by the pigment of its roots. One could argue that it outshines the Japanese iris, Kakitsubata, by far."

Hotaru was even more confused by Shizune's cryptic elaboration, but she kept her face strictly neutral. She had seen the Japanese iris before but never this Wakamurasaki flower that her companion seemed so fond of. To be honest, the woman never looked much like a flower person to Hotaru. From the way she was talking about them though, the inventor figured that it must have been her bias towards government personnel kicking in.

"What do you think, Imai-san?"

She was thinking why it took so long to reach Misaki's apartment when there was little traffic and the sky was clear. Hotaru did not particularly dislike car rides but that was not to say that she particularly liked them either and Shizune's car had a musty, deoxidized smell that made her head dizzy.

"I have never seen Wakamurasakis before."

After a small lapse, Shizune spoke, "what a shame. I used to have a nice, healthy plant in my backyard. I couldn't care for it much, I'm afraid. That's the downside to having a job that requires me to leave the country for long periods of time. I gave it to Shouda-san a while ago. Perhaps next time she will bring it around for you to see."

Hotaru wrinkled her nose at the notion of having next time anything with Sumire Shouda. While she did not mind the shrill voice and snide disparaging—so long as it was not directed at her—there was something about the woman that constantly had her on edge.

Meanwhile, Shizune continued along her train of thought that Hotaru stopped trying to unravel a long time ago, "wakamurasaki is the exact same shade as your eyes. I suppose that is why Hana Hime Organization leader Hii-sama gave you that name. She intended for you to be my successor and lead the organization, Wakamurasaki-no-kimi."

Hotaru pursed her lips a little distastefully before demanding, "why is it that every single one of you know me by a different name?" She was beginning to wonder if her old self had some variation of dissociative identity disorder. Heaven forbid that she did not use to be one of those girls who had six billion different nicknames and encouraged people to make them.

Shizune merely answered with a smile. "I suppose it's because you're special to every single one of us for our own personal reasons."

The inventor gritted her teeth. _But I am not___…____

"Take Hayate for example."

Hotaru clearly faltered; she could already feel the grimace that swept over her entire face.

"You may not like him, but he certainly won't shut up about you!" Shizune's voice rose with an undertone of annoyance and Hotaru was surprised, but not displeased, to learn that she was not the only one who had a hard time putting up with the man. "On the other hand, he is loyal, hardworking and free-spirited. Makes us jealous, doesn't he? A man free to come and go as he pleases. Meanwhile, you and I have our hands bound."

"I sincerely hope he did not ask you to put in a good word for him because otherwise I would chastise you for foolishly complying."

The car jerked to a halt at a red light. Shizune turned in the driver's seat, her eyes twinkling and lips quirked up mischievously at the ends. "Why, of course not, Wakamurasaki-no-kimi. Do I really seem like that kind of person to you? No, that would just be absurd_… _as absurd as buying a microwave sized present for the host of a simple tea party."

"Good, good. I am just making sure, _kakitsubata-no-kimi_," Hotaru mocked back. Her right hand conspicuously wrapped around the said microwave sized present, rustling its rich purple wrapping paper.

* * *

><p>BOOM.<p>

_A man glared at the huge purple box in front of him, head drawn back in a half incredulous, half frightened expression._

_"What is this thing?"_

_One arm held in front of him in a protective manner, he stared accusingly at the sixteen-year-old girl who had dumped it on top of his car and was now dusting her hands off. Her long hair swayed in air as she looked up at him expectantly. For a moment, the older man was afraid that his purple-eyed pupil was paying him back for all the years of hardship he had given her. As he inched another step back, she scoffed and did a one-eighty, silky raven hair flipping as she did._

_"Hey!" he yelled, striding three steps forward and grabbing her by the back of her collared uniform. "Don't just dump this on me and _leave. _What do you expect me to do with it?__"_

_"It is for you." She scowled, whirling her head to face him. "Take it."_

_He blinked twice. "What?"_

_She started walking once again, straining the uniform and finally dragging him along with her using her superhuman strength. He was never able to understand how she could far surpass him in every aspect of life, even though he used to teach her._

_"What are you doing?" Hotaru finally demanded, slapping his hands from her uniform. "I could sue you for assault."_

_One navy eyebrow flew all the way to his hairline. His face darkened with a maniacal expression and this time it was she who took the step back. He charged at her, reaching two hands out to pinch tightly at her face. "You're getting cocky now, aren't you? Now that I'm no longer your teacher, you think you're the ruler of the world, brat?"_

_"I merely gave you a present," she snapped back. "Why are you tormenting me for it? If you do not want it, fine. If it is too hard for you to take anything from here for fear that it will haunt you, _fine_. I completely understand. Just leave it by the gates or something. Do me a favour and stop rubbing it in my face that you are the one departing from this purgatory while I am forced to stay."_

_The two hands left her cheeks and fell back to his side. The teasing light left his eyes, replaced by a more serious demeanor. "Thank you, Imai-san."_

_"Stop calling me that. It's 'Miss Imai.'"_

_"Why?"_

_She glared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean, 'why'? I do not call you Anderson-sensei."_

_Ross Anderson smiled at his pupil fondly. "Ah, but I am not Japanese."_

* * *

><p>"Hotaru-san! Shizune! Hi, hi! Come in!" A small, pink-haired woman poked her head out of a small slit between the door and the doorframe.<p>

Without warning, she flung the door open and skittered behind them. A broad grin lightened up her features as she placed one hand on each guest's shoulder and all but pushed the two women into her home. All before Hotaru could even get a chance to shove the present into her hands.

"My, what's this?" Misaki was swift on her feet, no doubt. Just a moment ago, the inventor was sure that the door had still been open and Misaki was still behind them. "Is that for me?"

"Yes, congratulations on your pregnancy." Hotaru shoved the present into her arms, skedaddling before the faint blush on her cheeks started to show.

Misaki's home fairly simple. Everything ran along one corridor except the dine in kitchen, which was more of an attachment to the living room, where all the Alices congregated. They sat in a circle around a tea table, which made sense because the afternoon light only reached that side of the room. Already, seven people were busy locked in conversations. Beside them, there was a vacant beanie and a double couch, three seats was saved for she, Shizune and Misaki. There was also, to Hotaru's relief, a rather diminutive stack of presents behind Sumire's couch.

Behind her, the two women took their time approaching the living room. Misaki was particularly chirpy.

"I'm so happy you guys made it! Especially you, Hotaru-san! Shizune and I have been trying to get a chance to talk to you since that night at _TGIF_ but Ruka just had to keep you to himself. Then I thought, I _have_ to get her to the party he won't be at." She winked. "But it's beyond me what she was thinking, going there with _Hayate_ of all people! You really can't count on him to do much, you know?"

Hotaru winced and reassessed her rationality in trusting Hayate with one of the most important tasks of all time. "Does he _ever_ do anything properly?" _Please say yes____…_____

This time Misaki's face contained mild curiosity as she tilted her head to the side and replied, "I don't know. I've never really asked him to do anything for me. It all depends on your viewpoint. Hayate's hopeless with day to day errands; he gets distracted way too easily. It's a running gag that he's been dropped as a baby. Rui swears up and down that he's once been diagnosed with ADD, which, now that I think about it, actually makes a lot of sense."

Even Shizune nodded and shook her head at all the right places. Both women seemed quite fond of him despite the inconvenience he brought them. As if to provide testimony, the gray hair woman added, "Wakamurasaki-no-kimi, he did save you once in the Rebellion. When you were sought after by the Fuukitai, he risked his life to bring you to the Hana Hime Den. If nothing else, you have commend him for the courage."

It was strange, hearing _Hayate_ and _courage _in the same sentence, in a positive way no less.

"He would not be so annoying," she worded carefully, knowing that if any variation of this made it back to his ears, there would have hell to face, "if he was not so persistent."

"Ah," both women said simultaneously.

"I've had my share of persistent suitors," Shizune continued, "being lead flower sister of the Hana Hime Organization and one of the representatives of the High School Division. Well, those days are pretty much done and over with. Though there's always that one odd man who likes to stay for the chase on the off chance that I'll actually put him above my fellow sisters." She rolled her eyes in good nature.

"Tono?"

"Oh, no. Akira-kun and I are… different."

"C'mon," Misaki nudged Shizune with her elbow playfully, while Hotaru was still lost somewhere back at Hayate's ADD and simply stared blankly at them both. "You guys are always at it. I think Koko's starting to run a betting pool on how long it'll be before you two hook up."

"My husband is not doing anything!" a rather intrusive voice interjected. Sumire shot up, immediately showing her disdain for the idea by crossing her arms and scowling. "As it is, he's already way too deep in gambling and all that nonsense. I'm all for using Alices to our advantage but really, it's getting out of hand. I blame Kitsuneme, always lugging him off to shady places with nasty cigarette smoke and jailbait exhibiting their bodies in slutty bunny costumes." Her rant was concluded with a disgruntled wrinkle of the nose as she sat.

"Well," after a pause, Misaki turned to Shizune and Hotaru with a bright smile, "shall we sit?"

To Hotaru's surprise, the pink haired woman took the beanie, leaving the double couch to Hotaru and Shizune. She had been contemplating the seating arrangements before this, sure that the host wanted to sit on the couch amid all the other guests. She did not want to sit on the beanie, but at the same time it would have been rude to leave such a lowly spot to Shizune. The dilemma took up most of her mind while the two women had been arguing. The generous gesture on Misaki's part gained her a few positive points in the inventor's eyes.

"Tell me about America," Shizune requested as they seated and Hotaru groaned inwardly because she had always known that the dreaded question was going to surface sometime or another. Though it surprised her that Shizune of all people was the one to ask it, being a travelling diplomat and all.

"You have never been there?"

The gray haired woman busied herself with pouring jasmine green tea, absentmindedly replying, "I've been to Australia and England, but not yet America. I've heard that it's grand."

"I suppose so."

"Have you seen all the big cities? Are they like Tokyo?" She finished and was now pouring an extra cup which Hotaru presumed was for her. It was a pity that she never acquired a taste for tea. She had long converted to coffee, since there was always that one unofficial errand runner—sometimes two—who loved to drop by at Starbucks before every business meeting.

"Only New York and Boston, and yes, they are quite like Tokyo." _In some ways_, she added to herself. The lights, the air of importance and busyness was exactly the same. The feeling was completely different, seeing as each of the cities represented a period in Hotaru's lifetime. Some were great and others not so good.

Shizune handed her the cup of tea, her gray eyes softening with concern. "Do you miss it there?"

Hotaru stared into the warm, green liquid and a white petal of jasmine suspended in it. The question lingered somewhere in her earlobe, making her head spin. She had to reiterate it three times in her head before finally coming at an answer, although Shizune did not seem to mind the silence and was busy sipping tea herself. "I miss Boston," she finally admitted. They left it at that.

"Well," her companion finally responded, now also staring thoughtfully into her tea. One dainty hand supported the bottom of the china teacup while the other hooked around the handle. "I have to say that I really miss the Hana Hime Organization and Hii-sama."

Hotaru almost jumped at the chance of changing the subject. "The Hana Hime Organization… Tonouchi-san called it a cult."

A soft snort escaped Shizune's lips before she closed her eyes and shook her head at the image of Akira. "Why, the Hana Hime Organization is nothing more than a society established by Hii-sama for young girls, virtuous celebrates of all sort, which is why sinful barbarians like Akira-kun are so roused up at the idea of it. It completely opposes his playboy nature. I'm pretty sure—no, I'm certain he just bears a grudge against me for reinstating it after the original was destroyed in the Rebellion."

Hotaru quirked a brow. Shizune's description made the Hana Hime Organization sound like one of those private clubs that the trophy wives of prestigious men established. Ross's wife, Michelle Anderson expressed interest in starting her personal club once. It all sounded rather pointless to Hotaru. "Is there any particular purpose for the Hana Hime Organization?"

"Oh yes. We swear loyalty to Hii-sama, who was the barrier keeper of Alice Academy. Initially, each flower sister is to act as Hii-sama's bodyguard. We all swear on our lives to protect her no matter what. It's more of a tribute group now, although we do have some girls assisting her nephew Shiki, the new Middle School Principle."

The inventor's features lit up immediately. Bingo. Jackpot. This was what she had been going for all along. If only Shizune had came to see her early enough that she did not have to resort to trusting Hayate with that letter. In this ubiquitous group, there were bound to be other Alices who periodically infiltrated the academy and passed back precious information. What bad luck that she decided to settle with the incompetent Hayate. Well, no use crying over spilled milk now.

"How often do they report back from there?"

"Oh, they don't." Having set her teacup back on the table, Shizune tapped a fist down on her palm. "They're intelligencers. The Hana Hime Organization has a different reputation in the walls than they do outside. To the new generation, they're known as a terrorist organization. Anyone caught is severely punished and placed in the Dangerous Abilities Class." Her eyelids lowered sadly. "These girls put a lot on the line to serve us. We can't trouble them further with relaying the information, especially since they have trackers attached to their uniforms."

Hotaru's shrewd eyes flickered up, fixing themselves on Misaki's mundane windowpanes but seeing something else completely. A burly man, with the maroon Irving Academy faculty uniform stared at her contemptuously as he spoke with the pony-tailed agent who had the misfortune of bringing Hotaru to America. He scrutinized her up and down until his eyes found her Alice Academy metal.

_"What is that?"_

_"This?" __she asked, looking down. "__It is a tracker Alice Academy puts on each of the students to keep them safe."_

_A heinous sneer came over his face. She barely got a warning before he tore it from her uniform, ripping a piece of the cloth along with it. In his fingers, the medal slowly crumbled into sand and fell into a pile of dust on the floor. "Trackers? What nonsense. If you want to escape from these walls, then go ahead. Don't expect us to lend you our protection for a second time."_

"…trained to be prepared for sporadic visits," Shizune finished somewhere in the background.

Hotaru blinked. "I am sorry? I missed that."

The gray haired woman lifted her eyes to stare into Hotaru's dilated pupils and she seemed to understand that the inventor was not with them, had not been with them for a long time. Closing her eyes, she sighed, "I was just saying that the students are not the messengers. We have a few people stationed inside Alice Academy that sometimes leave for external affairs. That's when one of our agents exchanges information with them briefly."

"And I suppose those agents are not to be disclosed?"

Shizune smiled apologetically.

"Well then, I am going to take a wild guess and say that Matsudaira is not one of these said agents?" She was almost sure of it. From what she gathered from Shizune and Misaki, they would never let Hayate handle these important affairs. Most likely he would take her letter and entrust it to someone else, some trustworthy like— "Is Sakurano-san?"

Midway from bringing the teacup to her lips, Shizune paused, lifted her head and smiled at nothing in particular. Then she resumed as if nothing had happened. Hotaru took this to be the woman's strange affirmation. "How did you know about Shuuichi?" queried Shizune quietly.

"I do not. It was an instinctive guess. He seems to be a mysterious person and his name has popped up in strange places. Other than that, it seems that he is the only connection between Hyuuga and my brother."

"Aren't you—"

"I have no connection to Hyuuga," she stated firmly. "Otherwise, have you ever heard from Sakurano-san about my nephew, Hikaru?"

"Shuuichi is not as flexible as he used to be now that he's taken over the Special Abilities Class on behalf of Noda, but—" Hotaru's heart leaped, as did the seven others in the room, when Shizune's cell phone suddenly rang in a volume ten times louder than what it should be.

"Turn that _down_, Yamanouchi," chided Sumire, "before you deafen all of us."

Shizune nodded absentmindedly as she answered. The other party had something both disturbing and lengthy to say. As Hotaru awaited the end of the phone call rather impatiently, she saw Shizune's face morphing from a smile to a grim smile to a line. Little by little, the inventor's hopes diminished as she realized what was going to come next. In truth, she could not blame Shizune for putting her job first, but still. She had been _so_ close.

Hikaru, who had inherited her brother's Alice, would either be in the Special Abilities Class or the Latent Abilities Class. Hotaru was unsure and made a mental note to consult Subaru about that later. She was sure that either way, her brother's best friend would be looking out for the boy.

"I have to go," Shizune sighed, snapping her phone shut. Despite the air of urgency she let on, she settled her affairs fairly slowly, taking time to finish her tea, set the teacup down and even more time actually getting up and fetching her cloak.

"Why? What happened?" It was Misaki, scurrying to hold Shizune's cloak out for her so the latter could slip her arms through with minimal effort.

Although intrinsically reposed, Shizune's tone was full of contained annoyance, "well, it just so turns out that my new coworker from ARC is an _idiot_. Just a classic case of how an Alice doesn't always come with the brains to match. Since they sent him off half baked last month, he's managed to blow into smithereens the Japan-Italy immigration policy that Kousuke and I spent _seven_years putting into place. I'm due for a flight in twenty four hours. I've got to sort out a few things before I leave."

From the far corner of the room, Sumire tsked and offered many biased words of comfort that Hotaru quite happily censored out of her brain.

"Congratulations darling." The diplomat kissed Misaki on the cheek and joked, "I might not be back for a while but if it gets born without me, I'll be sure to send some baby supplies from Italy."

"Shizune!" But by that time, she was already out the door. The pregnant woman was shaking her head as she muttered, "safe trip," despite the absence of a recipient.

Things settled back to normal in a short period of time. Only, the inventor started feeling out of place without a partner to converse with. She glanced at the other women in the room. They had no trouble occupying themselves. Anna and Nonoko were engaged in frivolous chatter, characterized by the girlish hand waves and the teasing wiggling of fingers. Misaki looked like she was juggling conversations with three other women expertly, one in the midst of patting her belly; Hotaru wondered how in the world could she not feel awkward in that situation.

Meanwhile, Sumire was in her own separate category. The rambunctious and unpleasant woman's mouth moved faster than all the ladies' put together. She had been talking nonstop ever since Hotaru first entered the room—and well before that, the inventor would guess. Even when the conversation did not involve her, she still found it necessary to intervene with her two cents.

Feeling as if she was about to set off a ticking bomb, Hotaru cautiously edged in the subject of Alice Academy.

At the utterance of the word Sumire's head sharply snapped her way. Her face was grim in a critical frown that easily expressed her dislike for the subject. She started ranting anyways, "Alice Academy… Why, I haven't been there ever since last summer festival when my company appointed me to get some of those kooky Pheromone Alices from the Somatic Branch." She wrinkled her nose in disgust while gesticulating her dismay to add to the drama. "I almost _died_, entering those gates. The kids these days are so _scrawny_! Aren't they Mina?" The woman on Sumire's other side nodded fervently and slightly apprehensively. "Wakako told me something absolutely horrific the other day: the government did a major cut on the academy's funding and all the students are living like midevil peasants. She also said that they become more uncouth every generation, vandalizing, wrecking havoc, skipping classes daily. I tell her, 'Wakako, don't be daft. _We_ used to skip classes daily.' Sometimes, you'd think that women criticize anything." Hotaru bit back a smile at the irony while the drama queen continued with a huff and an irritated eye-roll. "Anyways, they're not getting _nearly_ enough food. With the way the kids looked, you'd think all of them were one stars or something…"

Hotaru was momentarily puzzled by the mention of a star system, but she figured that it was just some kind of hierarchy Alice Academy developed, like most of the pointless things they had. In Irving Academy, there were no hierarchical systems. The entire institution ran on respect and reputation. As long as one was favoured by teachers and had fairly admirable accomplishments, word would spread and that person would immediately be esteemed and defended if necessary.

Which was not to say that there had not been cases where people acted upon jealousy or tried to usurp others of their ranks. Hotaru absentmindedly placed a hand on her cheek as she remembered the stinging slap from a curly haired classmate.

"—and honestly, even with Shiki and Kazu overlooking the students you have to wonder what's _really_ going on inside the school. It's too large a plot of land to keep track of everything at once. And that new elementary principle, Okawa, seems all kinds of fishy, don't you think, Misaki? Not that I have a lot of complaints. At least they didn't appoint Koizumi Luna." Hotaru stirred, remembering that name from somewhere but not quite placing where exactly. "Oh, _Luna_! I tell you, I was going to throw a total fit when I heard they were even _considering_ letting her take over the post. Honestly, Mina, I was going to march right up to those walls and give them a piece of my mind. _I _helped shape the academy. _They're_ not just going to go do what _they_ want after what Class 2B did for _them_. But they didn't and thank god for that; _finally_, someone sees reason. If she was appointed I could just see another Rebellion in five years.

"And speaking of the Rebellion, Youichi just graduated, didn't he? He was what, three when it happened? Well he was always latching onto Natsume, I remember, like an _adorable_ puppy. But now he's more like a Great Dane, isn't he? Oh, he's such a handsome lad!" she exploded and Hotaru felt a little bad for Mina there, being the recipient of Sumire's flustered fangirl batters. "Kunagi-san and Hiwa-san better keep their daughters latched up! Well, it's more like Kunagi-san's daughter still has another year but Hiwa-san's daughter graduated with him, I believe. Although I'm not sure whether they know him very well personally, seeing as he's in the Dangerous Abilities Class and they're like taboo, if you know what I mean."

Hotaru was able to concentrate on Sumire's tangent just enough to catch the important details. "Dangerous types?" she inquired, feeling as if she had heard the term once, a long time ago, and that it had been something of considerable importance.

Out of them all, the woman called Mina blinked most incredulously at her. She turned to Sumire with a genuinely puzzled face while gesturing towards Hotaru with her teacup. "She doesn't know?"

"Well," the garrulous woman sucked in her thin cheeks, speaking as if she had known Hotaru for many, many years, "no, Mina. It's not that she doesn't know. Imai-san's just undergone a few complications in her teenage years—you know, all those western shenanigans and whatnot. Don't just assume that Imai-san's ignorant or anything, heaven forbid!" Yet she sent Hotaru a countenance of unadulterated pity.

The inventor probably should have felt insulted but she was too nonplussed over whether Sumire actually had a purpose for wriggling her neck in such a worm-like way as she spoke.

"So, dangerous types!" The voice piped up once more and the hands flew up once more, which could only mean one thing when it came to the inherent chatterbox. "Let me see, what's the best way to explain to you what the dangerous types are? I can't even tell where to begin, can you Misaki? Oh, that's right! Tsubasa used to be a dangerous type too! Come to think of it, so did Hayate, didn't he? Like, lots of people we know but they never really talk about it at the same time—not that I blame them but sometimes I feel like it's a little unfair to keep the rest of us in the dark, you know? I just realized how much I _don't_ know about them. Do you ever have those moments, Mina, where you just suddenly realize that there were things around you your whole life you don't know a smidgen about. Well it's like that. Every time I think about how much I don't know about Natsume, I get a little bit sad. You know how he used to be in the Dangerous Abilities Class, back when they were sent on high-risk missions? I'm pretty sure Shiki doesn't do that anymore. Don't know. Have to check with Akira sometime. Where has Akira been these days anyways?"

Hotaru narrowed one eye suspiciously, inferring, "Tonouchi Akira stays in contact with the Academy?"

To which Sumire only rolled her eyes in an "obviously" fashion. "Like so many of us do: Tono, Makihara, sometimes Hayami…"

"Have any of them heard from my nephew, Hikaru?" spouted the inventor. She immediately coughed lightly in an attempt to veil her zeal with nonchalance. It barely held, for one of Misaki's eyebrows immediately shot up and Sumire paused, mouth agape for an entire second before continuing her outpour of prized information.

"Hikaru-kun?" she gushed, fanning herself. "Imai Hikaru-kun? Mina, you remember him right, Subaru's son? Naomi used to bring him around _all_ the time. He was such a _cute_ little thing! Reminded me so much of Youichi when he was younger! Did you see his eyes and his hair? Gorgeous. Exactly like his father, I tell you. Right, he's enrolled in Alice Academy now. I knew it! I just knew that kid was going to turn out a fantastic Alice!"

"Imai-kun?" Anna, who only recently got wind of the conversation, piped up. "Isn't it almost his mother's birthday? Today's the seventh, right? I think her birthday was June twenty first?"

"Naomi Imai!" Sumire decried consequently, wrinkling her nose. "Beautiful, beautiful woman. There's just one problem. She's a bit of a wack job, went completely ballistic when she found out about Hikaru and Subaru's Alices. I remember just as if it were yesterday how she _freaked_ when Alice Academy came for her son, as if being an Alice is a _crime_ or something equally demoralizing to society. Honestly, it's not even a bad thing! She should be proud of the kid! He's destined for greatness! So she went a little virulent, bombastically claiming that we're at fault for making her son into something unusual. You should have seen the way she treated the kid! As if he were some kind of animal she had to hold by the reins!" She snorted, "like it's anything new by that point. You know, I always knew that woman would turn out to be presumptuous. Did you know that she went and signed that blasphemous petition that's been circulating _everywhere_?"

"Was that what you emailed me about?" Misaki interjected suddenly, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

"Darling, don't look so daunted. Here, have a biscuit." It was a deemphasized statement if there ever was one, with the way Sumire almost rammed the biscuit down Misaki's throat. "The petition's been around for years now, according to Hayami. His parents signed it like years ago or something, not that it matters since most of the people on that list are six feet under by now. You know they used to assassinate the instigators of that _thing_? I say they still should. I mean, just look at the target demographics: pregnant women, people with relatives in the academy, people who had a bad experience with the academy, people who hate the academy in general. Like, anti-Alices essentially." She flicked a finger for every single point, and then flapped her hands as she ran out of fingers. "I know it's been defective last time around but be extra careful. If any of them approach you, report it to ARC immediately. They'll take care of it no problem!"

"What is the petition about?" asked Hotaru.

Sumire gave her a strange look. "You know, insignificant stuff, like stopping the—" she finger quoted "—_ segregation_ of Alices, special schools, services, all that and putting them in—ugh—normal schools. Can you imagine an _Alice_ in a normal school Mina? I know! Me neither! They embellish all this baloney about the unfairness of Alices and how Alices shouldn't believe they're better than normal people, et cetera, et cetera just to take advantage of your paranoia. I say this is all clearly just the result of another jacked up non-Alice and some over-hype. Obviously if Alices are national treasures the government won't even consider it. Who cares if they have fifty thousand names gathered or whatever? It's not going to make a difference in the long run," she finished, looking smugly at her cuticles.

Hotaru fixed an unblinking stare at Sumire as she ran her tongue along her sharp molars. She waited patiently for the woman to finish—for it would be quite useless to interrupt her midway—and then countered quietly but sternly, "and you do not agree with this at all. You do not think we were at risk during our time inside the academy at all."

"Well that was minimal risk. It was just by some unlucky jurisdiction of god that Kuonji happened to be evil and obsessive over the Stealing Alice. Most academies aren't like that. I mean, if you weren't in the academy you'd constantly be worried about being captured by Z or other anti-Alice organizations and sold as like a slave to like India or something. It's not safe for children with Alices to be out in the open. Trust me. Having once been held captive by Mouri Reo, I can testify for that myself."

But Hotaru knew that there were flaws—huge, gaping flaws in the woman's creed. Though opinionated and solid as it sounded, Sumire's recent revelations only provided more proof of her ignorance to the world and the system in general. The inventor averted her eyes to two hands that were shaking subtly but uncontrollably. Even she gulped at the grotesque notion that perhaps there _were_ worse schools than Alice Academy and Irving Academy out in the world. Sumire did not know that behind four simple walls walls, there was little the students could do to control their way of life—that they were not even aware of another living standard because they had been kept from society for so long. Compared to Hotaru, Sumire had a relatively blessed life. She was happily settled, unbound, and free to reminisce to her heart's content. These were gifts that the inventor had been bereft of by the very same institutions the ignorant woman praised.

But a bigot was a bigot and would always be one. There was nothing Hotaru could say that would make Sumire see things from a different perspective, so she settled for a cynical frown as a clear indicator of exactly where she stood on this subject.

"Well," Misaki dispersed the tension with an unexpected smile, "we've all had our situations with the academy, haven't we? Though I have to agree that in the end it's the safest place I can entrust my child to." She looked fondly down at her belly. "Tsubasa and I have been talking about it for a while, weighing the pros and cons and such. Neither of us want to homeschool our kid and I seriously fret about it—him, her—attending a public school. It's a little bit open for my liking. Alice Academy really is the best option after all," she sighed, "unless someone else can come up with a better alternative in the next four or five years…"

Sumire looked smug.

Hotaru frowned deeper, leaning forward in her couch to stare Misaki straight in the eye. While her face was passive, her voice was absolutely stony and abound with censure, "so you do not feel any sadness that your child would not be seeing you until he or she turns eighteen. You think this is the right path."

"Hotaru-chan!" protested Nonoko, "you can't say it like that! Of course Misaki-san cares for her child!"

Hotaru gave her a cold, hard look before intensely expelling all air from her lungs. Leaning back, she set an elbow on the armrest and her chin on the back of her hand. It was a position that angled Hotaru's head down, which made it convenient for her because she was nearly suffocated by this tea party. "I am just saying that there is no middle ground when it comes to academies. You either obey the officials or you disobey them. If you do not set a solid resolve from the very beginning, there is no room for regret afterwards." Softly, she warned, "you will not get a second chance, Harada-san."

With pensive, half-lidded eyes, Misaki also averted her gaze down to the hexagonal tiles. She smiled again, a much sadder smile, before closing her eyes, probably to imagine the kind of future she wanted with her kid but would never have. Hotaru did not know. She could not be sure. She was not a people person and she never intended to play on anyone's emotions. The only thing she wanted, the only thing she could do was prevent people from ending up exactly like her.

Just because she could bear such heavy unhappiness and regret in her heart did not mean that others were as strong.

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><p>Another one of my favourites. How many of you were surprised to find out that Ross Anderson was Hotaru Imai's former teacher?<p>

Please fave, alert, review!

-IndigoGrapefruit

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	9. The Red Pouch of Mysteries

_Disclaimed._

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><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Nine: The Red Pouch of Mysteries

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><p>A young blond man pulled open the door to a Starbucks coffee shop, his hair settling from the flutters of the gentle summer breeze. Had the handle been alive, it would have purred under his gentle touch. Sleepy-eyed, he blinked in a dazed but picturesque manner that only dispelled after the descry of a porcelain face. An amused smile crossed his face as he walked over to Hotaru, beige blazer under his arm, slacks swaying to and fro as if caused by the wind. Six—no, seven people: one man, two women and a few teenage girls—were currently sneaking glances at his figure.<p>

Hotaru shifted in her seat, stirring her iced peppermint white chocolate latte. Her left hand pushed a tray of pastries to the centre of the table while her right foot pushed the opposing chair back for him before he could even reach out his hand. "Are you usually this attention grabbing?"

Ruka was caught between a flush and a sheepish smile. He scratched the back of his neck as he seated, lowering his head to hide his flustered state. "A-attention grabbing? I don't know whether to take it as a compliment or—"

"It was a statement," she told him, eyes shifting sharply to every single gawking individual, pausing just long enough for them to look away in abashment. "I do apologize if you take my words the wrong way."

"Oh," squeaked Ruka, half blushing and blinking incredulously. "Um, do you often just make offhand statements like that? I-I mean not that I would_… _but sometimes it might give people the wrong impression_…_" He said this as if he wished for nothing more than to sink right into his chair.

Hotaru dismissed Ruka's flustered state and instead thought unpleasantly of Hayate. "Well, yes," she told him rather factually, "because I like to take note of little things people usually dismiss or fail to notice, but usually only around people I feel comfortable with and people I know will not take things the wrong way."

"A-and I'm one of them?"

Violet eyes flashed to cerulean. He was genuinely surprised and maybe even a little confused about her demeanor. Though she would not say that he did not have the right to after the rather bipolar treatment she had given him. In fact, Hotaru inwardly admitted that she would have been surprised if Ruka had not been confused after she unceremoniously called him after Misaki's tea party with the request of meeting the Saturday after. For a tepid relationship like theirs, it was pretty big request. Although, by Ruka's benevolent nature, he agreed nonetheless, so readily that Hotaru had to commend him for being really forgiving or really foolish.

Still, it did not stop him from looking like a child who was afraid to dip his toe into the cold waters. Ruka knew that Hotaru requesting his solitary presence would never happen unless she wanted something from him. Which she did, but it was not nearly as colossal as whatever he had in mind.

"Maybe you are," she admitted with a shrug. "I just feel different around you, exonerated almost." Her eyelids fluttered shut for a split second. "Sometimes it is nice to speak to someone without having to worry about prejudice or miscommunication."

"Hayate?"

Hotaru rubbed her temple. "Nogi-san, _why_ must you mention his name to me?"

Ruka's laugh chimed through the shop as he profusely apologized, clearly with no intent of an actual apology as indicated by the subtle yet _very_ amused smile fixed on his face. Hotaru was shaking her head at him like a schoolteacher's chide, which of course only made his laugh merrier. She gave up, shrinking a little into her seat and latching her mouth onto the straw of her drink in an attempt to preserve what dignity she had left. If Ruka loosening up meant having herself made a fool, Hotaru supposed she could bear with it. After all the hassle she had gone through to get his number from Nonoko without Sumire's jeering, there was little she would not give to make her conversation with Ruka as painless as possible.

"Why is _everyone_ so well informed of Hayate and I?" she huffed, picking up a danish crumb and threatening to throw it at him, to which he responded by leaning back and blocking his head with both hands. "You people need to know when to let things lie."

Ruka's smile broadened much to Hotaru's chagrin. He leaned forward, propping both elbows on the desk and cupping his face in his two hands. "Well," Hotaru popped the crumb into her mouth with mixed feelings on the elaboration, "Hayate's obsession goes way back to when you first visited the Hana Hime Den. Everyone thought that he was going to tear you into shreds when you first met, but he kind of gave up after finding out that you resemble his idol from childhood, a superhero called Cool Blue Sky."

"And that is where my nickname came from," she deadpanned, feeling the need to throttle a rag doll at the irony of being compared to the last thing she was.

Ruka was having a little bit of fun with the subject. "Ever since, he's been obsessed with you. He tells many stories of your loving courtship, especially the about you two eloping to the Hana Hime Den during the Rebellion, which I'm pretty sure I know by heart now. Would you like to hear it?"

"No."

"That's too bad," he teased with a click of the tongue.

She leaned back in her chair, sighing as she turned her head to peer out the window. Sakura blossoms were blooming grandly off in the distant park, a small utopia for families in the midst of this concrete jungle. Vaguely, she used to recall that Alice Academy used to have a Sakura tree just like this one. It had been affirmed the day she probed through her photo albums. Ten blocks down, children must have been dancing underneath its petals at that very moment. If it had not been destroyed during the Rebellion, that is. Hotaru slipped one arm under the table to clench her fist tightly.

"Maybe this is your revenge for what I forced upon you in Hayami's office," sighed the inventor.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ruka's eyebrows fly up to his hairline. Slowly, he puffed up his cheeks with air and then popped them, licking his lips once afterwards nervously. His eyebrows stayed raised as he assured, "well, uh, no, not really. I've already forgotten about that incident so there's no need for you bringing it up again. Honestly, no hard feelings."

Whipping her head straight, Hotaru drew the fist from under the table and thumped it down on the table's surface, not strong enough to indicate anger but firm enough to catch Ruka's undivided attention. He looked nail-bitingly nervous and a little resemblant of the fight or flight syndrome. In the moment that he was still too stunned to really say anything, Hotaru looked deep into his eyes and whispered, "Nogi-san, I am sorry."

So quietly were the words uttered that the moment they escaped into the air, they were completely drowned out by the buzz of conversation in the background. So quickly were they uttered that no one else heard or knew of the significance. Only a total of two eyes and one jaw doubled in size.

"I—Imai—I…"

"I also apologize for not having said it on that day. It was wrong of me to treat you as condescendingly and scornful as I did," she coughed, quickly latching her mouth onto the drinking straw again before it could take on a life of its own and start spewing jumbled bits of extensive apologies.

Anatomically, Ruka was conflicted between reddening like a tomato and gawking like a fish. The two made a rather hilarious combination in which he simply sat there, dumbfounded, with his face burning. As his eyes drifted to his lap, he revealed glimpses into a shining and authentic smile. In a somewhat coherent peep, he confessed, "I really, really don't know what to say. Um, if you're sorry for that then I guess I'm sorry too for taking advantage of your guilt to make you come to _Thank God It's Friday_."

She stared disbelievingly, her head rigid and frozen. "Nogi-san, god forbid you ever answer an apology with another apology again. Never again, do you hear me? God knows the amount of time I put into preparing myself for that and you… you… I am very upset with you."

"O-okay."

Nothing was said between them for a while. Mostly, in the silence, he fidgeted under her stare as she kept her eyes on his figure. Slowly, the blush crept from his cheeks and he recovered to the point where he now had a firm grasp on his thoughts, though the absentminded twitching of fingers gave him away. After a while, it was evident that Ruka did not entirely feel comfortable disquieting until she did.

Hotaru herself was a rather straightforward person who frequently had little if anything at all to say, so she got straight to the point.

"Tell me, were we really unhappy as students of Alice Academy?"

Her eyes were half-lidded but through them, she could see his flabbergast for the half second following her question. Then, in a flash, Ruka's two hands slammed down on the table impromptu as he exclaimed vehemently, "of course not! Imai-san, is that why you're always sad when you're with us? I mean, sure it was lonely and sure things got hectic at times, but we've always had each other. We were always supporting each other through all the hard times and… I don't think anyone knew how to be unhappy until_…_"

"The Rebellion," she finished for him.

Ruka nodded sadly.

"Not a single memory," she whispered tiredly. "I do not have a single happy memory from childhood. Always, it has been raging fires, screams, cries, tears." Her body involuntarily shivered at the horror fest that almost materialized in front of her eyes.

"That's not true! You were—"

"I know. I have photographic evidence from days that seem like long gone dreams. To date, I cannot even look at them." The words felt more and more desolate as they left her mouth one by one. "I cannot empathize with those days anymore; it feels like looking back into something blessed, something I want for the me of the present." And it was added emptiness to her heart, so much that she was terrified that like a supernova, it would collapse under its own weight. "I just wanted to confirm, maybe give myself a sliver of hope that this—" she gestured to her own body "—was not always the case."

Ruka frowned firmly. "Why do you have such a negative opinion of yourself?"

Her eyelids fluttered against her skin as if squeezing out unshed tears from the dry violet orbs. "Do you know how much of a nightmare I have lived through to get to this day? I am not religious, but I believe that there are two types of hell in the existing world: one created for us, that we were unwillingly placed into and one that we create for ourselves."

The Sakura blossoms were really lovely. Hotaru imagined herself fifteen years younger, surrounded by other children, twirling along with the dance of the petals. She tore her glassy eyes away from the picturesque park, hardening them, focusing them on a random spot in the horizon. Since it was a story that could not be told with any emotion but abhorrence, she would rather not tell it with any emotion at all.

"Imai_…_san?"

"Once," she mumbled, "there was a display case that held a golden trophy—pure gold, twenty four carats—half the size of a person. Come to think of it, it would have mattered little if it had been made of a slab of wood. Growing up, the people I knew had no use for riches and grandeur. InIrvingAcademy, children only ever desired to feel wanted, only ever desired to prove that they were worth something.

"I was placed in a special institution in America. It is not like Alice Academy; no, it is not nearly as unregulated. It was a juvenile delinquent prison of all sorts for Alices amassed worldwide, Alices that could cause excruciating pain or treacherous mischief, like for example rebelling violently against the government. Maybe the right way to put it is that it was a Dangerous Abilities Class on a large scale. In a space of two blocks, there were around two hundred students who made nuclear bombs seem like child's play." She heaved a heavy, tired breath. "So what do you do with so many precarious children? You subdue them. You subdue them physically and mentally. You make them feel so self-conscious, so miserable that the thought of insubordination would never even cross their minds. You trample them like weeds and tell them they are absolutely worthless."

"Like what Kuonji did to Luna." Ruka looked like he just swallowed a sour lemon.

"Precisely."

"Is that the hell that was made for you?" he whispered breathily.

She stared at him long and hard before curving her lips up into a morbid smile. "What are you talking about, Nogi-san? That was not hell. That was _far_ from hell. In fact, it would be all that I would ask for to relive my teenage years getting by by merely obeying some holier than thou imbecile. However a pain in the kidneys it would have been, I would have left and forgotten everything seven years ago. If only my ignorant fourteen-year-old self had not fallen too deeply into the charade, had not wanted that trophy as much as I had.

"Looking back, it is partially my fault for being so prideful, so confident that I would not become a beaten down soul, not become like _them_. By the time I was fourteen, I was already holding onto the last strings of my sanity." She bit hard into her lip. "You have no idea how much I wanted that trophy, because in Irving Academy, a trophy means so much more than that. First place is hope. It means that out of all the scum in that hellhole, you are the only one who will actually go to places, whose name will be ingrained in the very history of if not the world, then at least the academy. Who, after years and years of believing that they will never amount to anything in life, would not vie for such an opportunity?

"They gave us a choice of working alone or in partners. I did not want a partner, nor did I look for one. There were so many desperate souls in that place that you could turn your head for a moment and your entire life's work would be gone. Stolen. Every day, it was a battlefield full of spies, swindlers, liars. You would be surprised at what lengths hopeless people go to to conceal their hideous deeds. What good is a Truth Alice screening if spies bash themselves in the head or took heavy drugs they smuggle in to forget that they ever plagiarized in the first place? If they earnestly believe they did not do it, what good is a test that determines the 'truth' from their own knowledge and perception?"

Much of Ruka's face was covered by his hands, leaving only space for two terrified eyes that flitted around spastically. He looked ghastlier than she had ever seen a man, so ghastly, in fact, that she was afraid he would congeal into a statue and then crack cleanly down the middle.

Hotaru's eyes flickered from his face to the food in between them. She picked up a scone and held it out to him. "Perhaps you should eat this, Nogi-san."

Desensitized, Ruka peeled one hand from his face to wrap his fingers around the pastry weakly. He did not bring it to his mouth. "T-the kids are fourteen. _Fourteen… _How could they do this to _themselves_?"

"In a hell readily made for them, where they are nothing but guinea pigs running in hamster wheels? Easily."

"Why are you telling me this?" he exclaimed, temporarily catching the attention of a few people surrounding them.

She averted his eyes sadly. "If you do not want to hear it, all you have to do is say so."

Though his face looked pleading, he said nothing.

"I told you because I knew you would feel uncomfortable, because you should feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was heinous of me to impose on your life like I am doing now, to make you feel so disturbed and so scared as you do. However, I do not feel sorry. I do not believe that one should turn a blind eye to something that is happening to someone out there, no matter how horrible it might be. Though you did not ask for it, I felt compelled to tell you—to trust you, in a sense, with some of the deepest secrets I have kept because I know that you are compassionate enough not to judge me for something that happened in the past."

"But _why_?" he cried again and this time she left it as a rhetorical question. Ruka silently sniffled to himself, nibbling off ends of the pastry but not really eating it. For a small second, her heart throbbed at the hurt of rejection, though she knew she should have expected it, though she knew the risks of letting others peek into the most vulnerable parts of her life. But then, he swallowed a lump, and though he did it lifelessly, he asked, "what happened to you afterwards?"

Hotaru, shaken by his acceptance, almost broke into an emotional smile. "Essentially something called the Memory Project." At the name, she jerked, caught her little blip and steeled herself again. "Years ago, I created a machine that enhanced the human memory so greatly that every speck of dust and every fleck of dirt would be forever ingrained in the memory of whoever used it. It lasted six months. When I finished the first prototype of that machine, I tried testing it on some of my other robots, only to have them consequently self-destruct. Making prototype bots took up too much of my time so eventually I just gave up and started testing it on myself as a last resort. I was _so_ young and stupid."

"Does it have anything to do with you being unable to remember anything from Alice Academy?"

"Do you really want me to drop the bomb on you again?"

Ruka almost whimpered. "How much worse can it get?"

"I surgically removed parts of my cerebrum afterward," she promptly informed, "mostly parts responsible for short-term and long-term memory, now replaced by the enhancer. They had nearly been fried dead anyways. Mostly the result of reckless on my part, although I do recall that once, an Amplifying Alice took out her frustration by trying to kill me. I almost went into comatose for that one. She was so mad when I woke up that she slapped me in the face."

Of course, Hotaru skipped the important details—that the Alice was a social climber and had her eye on Hotaru for a while. She was one year older than the inventor but was looked down upon because her Alice could not accomplish anything by itself. After she heard that Hotaru was contesting for the trophy, not a day went by where she did not insist on a partnership. Again, Hotaru refused. Again, she proposed. Until one day, late at night, a very frustrated Hotaru accepted one of her Alice stones and used it to work out some kinks in the project. She had been ecstatic. The girl had been so sure that she was headed straight for the top, only discovering last minute Hotaru had intended to drop her from the get go.

So it did not come as much of a surprise when the girl—Hotaru could not recall her name—tried to kill her. The slap had stung though, did sting throughout the years. Hotaru never saw her again. Whether it was end result of the hate and pain of betrayal or the restraining order she filed to Ross Anderson subsequently, she never found out either.

"Imai-san…" Ruka choked out, earning him a somewhat apologetic look from Hotaru. "I have a weak stomach for horror stories_…_ Your brain, really? I thought these things only happened in fiction."

"In retrospect, it was not all that bad," she offered. No, the duration of the Memory Project was not bad at all. It was what resulted of it that never failed to haunt her body for days on end.

"It wasn't all that bad?" he choked out disbelievingly. "Imai-san, what are you, superhuman?"

She shifted her chair ninety degrees for some space to cross her legs. Leaning her elbow against the tabletop, Hotaru challenged, "as bad as Kuonji's deeds? And the people who suffered because of him?"

Ruka opened his mouth but did not speak. Through solemn eyes, he melancholy looked down, fingers trembling with silent sorrow as he gripped the top of that square table. The buzz of joyous chatter filled up the silence between the two Alices. For Hotaru and Ruka, it felt as if they were in another world completely, a world far away from the silly tales of habitual life, one that was defined by catalysis and chaos.

"Every time the Rebellion is mentioned, people always think worst case scenario," mumbled Ruka, seemingly to himself. His fingers traced little stick figures on the table. Four of them, Hotaru counted. She wondered who they were. "They think of destruction, fleeing, chaos, attempted murder on all three sides."

The finger stopped and flicked off the table. "It wasn't a one night event. It was a succession of events with many, many people involved, not just the Elementary School Division but also the Middle School and High School Divisions, and organizations outside of the Academy. What's the last thing you remember?"

Hotaru frowned, racking her brain for the remnants of her memory. "Conflagration, iron gates, footsteps," she identified each image as they flew across her eyes at inhuman speeds, "grabbing, tripping, panting, flashes of light, a red pouch, something slipping through my fingers, and a cacophony of screams." Usually that was what her dreams ended with, leaving her wide awake, sweating, and half hallucinating those voices in the dead silence of the night.

"After Sakura-san escaped from the mansion then," deducted Ruka, earning him a look of confusion from Hotaru. "Um, actually there were two parts—" he even held the fingers to signify _two_ "—to the Rebellion. People don't usually think of the first because it didn't really affect them personally." So bitterly this was said that he almost uncharacteristically spat it. "Even before we knew what was happening, Sakura-san was already being recruited by Kuonji for her Stealing Alice. Because she didn't agree, he did all he could to make her friends, us, suffer. And we did. We suffered so much she agreed to go with him and so he locked her up in a mansion hidden from all of us. That was where she saw must of the events of the Second Rebellion until she escaped.

"No one really knows what happened to her after she left and before Natsume and I found her. When we did, she was caught in the crossfire of a battle between Z Organization and the Fuukitai, Alice Academy guards. To save us, Natsume used up his Alice. It brought him to the brink of his death," the blond softened tentatively, his lashes quivering and lips creased. "The only reason he survived is because we found one of Subaru's Alice Stones on him. It temporarily sustained his life force until we brought him to your brother. By then… by then you were already gone. Subaru was in such, uh, anguish about how he couldn't save you that Sakura-san promised him she'll bring you back at all costs. And… well, that was the last we ever saw of her."

_"Hotaru!"_

The inventor inhaled sharply, eyes diluted, mouth slightly open. In front of her, Ruka was too lost in silent mourning to notice the small convulse. It was the first time in a long time she heard that voice, so long that she seriously deliberated if it was just her mind playing tricks on her or a real, genuine memory. Instead of a headache, when Hotaru strained her memory, she managed to bring back a dream-like image of the scene: a girl with tousled hair was running towards her, hand outstretched as if passing a baton. In that hand was something long and red.

_The pouch_, she discerned automatically.

"Is that why Hyuuga thinks I have his Alice stone?" she frowned, staring into the lines of her palm, trying to remember the mysterious pouch's texture. The string was rough and course, a little harder than yarn. The size of the pouch she could not quite recall, but it was sure to be something small—a holder for keys or a small charm or an Alice stone.

But it was not an Alice stone because she never brought an Alice stone overseas. The ponytailed woman, the government personnel had checked her body for such things and would have confiscated the pulsing stone had she found one. Even if Hotaru managed to bring it with her, she would have had some recollection of it. In Irving Academy, Alice stones were prized commodities; there was no way she would have let it leave her side for a moment.

More importantly, she did not even know what Natsume's Alice stone colour was. In fact, she was almost certain she had never seen it in her life.

Surprisingly, Ruka did not seem to think so either, for he seemed incredulous, to say the least, at her accusation. "His Alice stone? Do you have it?"

"Obviously not."

"Oh." The eyes restored to their original size. "No, I didn't think so. Neither did Natsume, to be honest. I think he hoped from the bottom of his heart that it wouldn't be with you."

"… What?"

"Well, think of it this way: if Natsume actually trusted Sakura-san enough to let her take his Alice, wouldn't he also trust her to return his Alice to him? That's what I've always thought—that he's so obsessive over his stone because it's the last dwindling strand of hope that he'll ever see Mikan again. I mean, in a sense it's an exchange a little stronger than a promise because Alice stones are essentially a part of us. I think he's waiting for her to bring it back to him personally, and to stay with him. Instead of the Alice being on you, he probably thinks that Mikan gave you a clue as to where she's hiding."

"And what makes him think that? The last time I saw her was fifteen years ago. Surely you must have some other lead by now."

"Um," Ruka said, scratching his cheek, "yeah… Nice, France. She was there with a former friend, Ibaragi Nobara-san. By the time we reached the city, she was gone."

"What about Ibaragi-san? Did you not find her? It would not be hard to find someone of Japanese descent in France."

Blushing, Ruka murmured, "we couldn't find her."

Forcefully sighing, Hotaru brushed aside her bangs with her index finger. "Have you ever considered bugging their former residence in case they come back? Did Hyuuga not have some kind of Tracking Alice he could borrow from his friends? Did you show photographs of Sakura-san and Ibaragi-san to the locals? I am sure they would have seen the two women around in marketplaces and such."

"W-we tried. He and I stayed at my mom's place for two weeks and we combed the entire city for them. At times Natsume was absolutely convinced he was onto their trail, but in the end we found nothing."

"Then they had an accomplice," she reasoned, frowning, "which I can see resulting in two scenarios. One, Sakura-san has already moved on and is now tied up with her own affairs. Two, she is forced against her will into hiding, likely because of affiliations with an illegitimate organization or illegitimate organizations. Unless she wishes for it, the prospects of Natsume finding her again are at best very bleak."

"It'll kill him."

Hotaru shook her head sadly. "I think it already has. I think that it is safe to say that he is obsessive and perhaps a little bit insane. The best thing to do in this scenario is to hire a psychiatrist and try to talk him into seeing sense. Has he any family besides his father?"

"One sister."

"One sister, and she has done nothing for him?"

Ruka shuffled in his seat. "It's a little complicated with her. The Hyuuga family's always been a victim to financial struggles and misfortune: their first house burned down before the full mortgage was paid, insurance companies declared bankruptcy, several credit card scams, medical fees for his father's cancer and Aoi's eye surgeries. Despite having received money for two Alices, they were dirt poor by the time Natsume was expelled." He shook his head sadly. "Well, you know the rest about how he managed to unite the Alices. His sister's in university right now. Natsume's paying for her boarding and tuition with money from AFO, and in return she promised to respect his space. I don't think she has any idea how bad it's actually become."

The inventor narrowed her eyes. "Tell her," she spoke pointedly, "and hire a psychiatrist."

Ruka closed his eyes. "It'd be hard to try and get Natsume to agree to having one. I don't think he's at that much of a risk yet. As long as Sakura-san's not dead, there's still some hope."

Hotaru was momentarily irritated that Ruka, that everyone, was so intent on making excuses over and over for a complete and utter piece of scum. Natsume was clearly in trouble. They were trying their hardest to help him out of his predicament and yet he still insisted on being fine, still simply gave them all a big, rude slap in the face. "The fact that you defend him does not sit well with me. You gave me a great excuse to ramble on and on about every single one of Hyuuga's faults but I'm sure you won't want to hear the semantics."

He was silent.

"Perhaps that is the difference between you and I," she commented, tugging at the ends of her shaggy hairstyle. "I cannot even begin to make acceptances for people half as well as you do."

Ruka frowned. "Please don't say that, Imai-san. I'm not. I'd like to say that I will support him if he decides to wait until the end of time, I'd like to say that I trust in his judgement and character, but I can't and I don't. I'm just as worried about him as you are, except I can't do anything about it because I care a lot more about Natsume than you do. And I want him to be happy, and I also want him to be healthy, and I can't have both at the same time. It's just—" he sighed "—sometimes it's just so hard being a best friend."

* * *

><p>Hotaru awoke with lightheaded discombobulation. For a while, her head spun in a huge maelstrom of red pouches, excitable Natsumes, bright and sunny ten-year-old Mikans, and bits and pieces of her conversation with Ruka. The first thing she did was dispel everything from her head. Once the room actually came into focus, she wondered how much time she had actually wasted napping.<p>

As usual, the vintage beige curtains were drawn, making it nearly impossible to see if it was still light out.

Drowsily, Hotaru reached for her phone, only to be blinded by an intense square of white light. Unwilling to subject her precious eyes to the torture, she turned away from it, groaning as she snuggled her head back against a lump of blanket. Her fingers groped the keypad for navigation. From memory, she accessed the call command and pressed the little two button. It was as good as a clock anyways. If Janine answered the phone sounding grumpy and sleep deprived then it was almost certainly still afternoon.

"_Ughhh_."

Afternoon it was.

"Should I give you a little time to wake up?" asked Hotaru. "I have only just awoken myself. What time is it over there?"

"Holly, is that you?" slurred Janine. "It's—it's like five am here. The Japanese equivalent of the SWAT Team better be after your hide for you to be calling me at this unearthly hour."

Hotaru pressed her lips together and wondered what Janine would say if she were to tell her best friend that the scenario would soon become a very possible one. ARC probably had an even lower profile than the Swat Team. Almost surely, there would be at least one or two very unusual and possibly lethal government organizations working to enforce Alice Law. They had everything else after all—Alice courts, Alice diplomats, Alice spies… An image of Chiaki and his almost feral grin entered her head; Hotaru shook it away distastefully.

"Actually, I was wondering if I left behind a red pouch of some kind."

"Give me a minute…"

A big _pfoosh_ echoed through the receiver as Janine brushed aside her duvet and sat up. She sniffled five times, gasped ten and made some kind of strange noise that sounded like the tired rubbing of her eyes. Hotaru's best friend was one of those people who would usually be alert if she was given three minutes to rub out the sleepiness from her features. It must have been really bad this time, for even after the wake up routines Janine still moaned sleepily. Hotaru knew the hazel-eyed woman was going to take revenge on her someday by calling her late in the evening, but what she did not know was that the inventor had been wide awake on most of the nights anyways.

"Okay," said Janine, after slapping her thighs twice. "A red pouch… Yes, I have seen one at our place. I don't exactly remember where—and before you say anything, it's like five in the morning and I can't even think clearly. If I do I'll—wait! I think I found something like that in one of your old drawers when I cleaned it out. Did it have a string attached?"

"Yes."

"Well, there you go."

Hotaru waited, only to receive nothing more than breathing from the other side for two minutes. She shook her head, musing at how hard it was to talk to someone whose only intention was to go back to sleep as soon as possible. "Where is it now?"

"Ngn," gasped Janine, who evidently just dozed off. "Oh. I threw it out."

"You threw it out," Hotaru uttered flatly. "You _threw_ it out."

"It was empty, Holly," she slurred. "I didn't think you have any use for it anymore. A week after you were gone, I sla—swept your room for things—uh—things that you need. You said you weren't like, um, what's the word again? You said you weren't leaving behind anything important. Why didn't you tell me to keep it beforehand?"

"I did not think it was important at the time. It turns out that the pouch was a gift from a friend who is now missing and might have held a key clue to where she has gone."

"Well there was nothing inside it," Janine moaned in a half sleepy, half whiny voice. "That's why I threw it out! It was like—like the only, uh, thing that was there, you know? There, like inside your drawer. We got like a bunch of boxes packed somewhere—I have to ask Tom. Can I just call you back if I find something, _please_? Ten o'clock lecture tomor—today and I have to touch up on my essay later." She groaned loud and long.

"Well, my apologies then."

"You _should _be sorry. But I guess I owe you from that once when you drove me home from that bar magig thing. Goodni—afternoon? Oh, whatever! Goodnight, Holly."

"Goodnight." Hotaru smiled at her awkward sentences.

She was almost triumphant when her nail scraped over the _End Call_ button. No more Natsume in her life for good. She briefly wondered if she should tell Ruka to relay him the news that she officially had nothing to do with Mikan Sakura from this point onward. On second thought, Hotaru decided to withhold the information, in case the red eyed tyrant ever sought her out again. She would love to see the hopeless look on his face when his one and only hope shattered in right front of him.

Ruka's serious face materialized for a wavering moment. _"It'll kill him."_Hotaru shook it away, frowning. Surely, Ruka was wrong. As understanding and kind as he was, he could not be right about everything regarding human behaviour.

And if he was right then it was Natsume's fault because he _clearly_ had a choice. Hotaru gripped her phone begrudgingly as the thought crossed her mind. From the beginning, Natsume had a choice between living a normal life and diving straight into a downward spiral. Since he had chosen the latter, he had better be losing sleep with the full understanding that it was he who had driven himself down this path. Because some people were not as lucky.

Hotaru forced her shaking body to calm.

In the dark room, she barely contained a sinister smile. _Well, there you go Hyuuga. I was right. It looks like Sakura-san does not wish to be found after all._

* * *

><p>This is a little bit better than Version 1 and Version 2. I think I can live with it now.<p>

Please alert, fave and review! :D

-IndigoGrapefruit


	10. All Pawns on the Same Chessboard

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Ten: All Pawns on the Same Chessboard

* * *

><p>By early July, it had become a custom for Hotaru to take to the streets in the hours immediately following the orangey dawn and before the searing noon. Summer brought with it hoards of tourists, rowdy young delinquents, and little children running about neither giggling nor screaming but a shrill mixture of both. About her everywhere was the buzz of livelihood, even from the few animals that had grown accustomed to the city's sulfuric haze. As she descried each of them, Hotaru thought of the time that had been taken away from her.<p>

In the presence of someone so bitter, it seemed borderline criminal for them to be living in such bliss. Indeed, the younger generation was rather frivolous and inattentive, for many of them failed to notice the empire of tangerines entirely.

Hotaru did not.

Specifically, she took note of all the dynamics of the graffiti: the location, quantity, geometry, position, and a billion other details that any normal person would never have thought twice about. There was a certain pattern to the appearances, not unlike an intricate algorism, but also one that could be solved. After all, certain tangerines had irrefutable resemblances and eminent differences from other tangerines. It made sense, Hotaru reasoned, seeing as even a cloning Alice could not manage to decorate such a giant premise as Tokyo.

But she was sure that every picture was a duplicate of one or a small handful of artists' work. Once, identical images appeared in two different places of the city at two different times. The first tangerine was rounder and brighter in colour. The second had sharper highlights. By running through the images of every single tangerine, she was able to determine which person painted where.

Exactly sixty two artists were at work, each managing a distinct area of Tokyo whether it be rich, poor, or insignificant. They were responsible for the repainting of tangerines that were worn away or manually cleaned. Most likely, the person had an assigned number of tangerines to maintain in their area at all times. That would explain why there were dozens and dozens of them in the populated, middle-class neighbourhoods but very little in the dirty ghettos or well-maintained rich, private areas.

It was all part of a conspiracy to root the tangerines in the back of the citizens' minds, so that they were there but not really there at the same time. A subliminal message.

By the way the two ladies casually pushed a baby stroller past a vandalized building, Natsume's tactics were working. They never even spared a second glance at the image. They never even questioned it. The tangerine was something completely natural, completely mundane to them, like a mailbox or even a tree.

Hotaru strolled closer to examine it. The picture here, like others on the same block, was very elaborately painted. Since all tangerines were drawn with spray paint, most artists either left off with speckled ends or blended colours to make it look a little smoother. The lines on this piece of art were sharp and neatly finished. Not to mention that there were a few Sakura twigs that could not be painted with anything other than the smooth bristles of a paintbrush. Only a perfectionist would carry around sleek brushes for touch-ups.

The lingering smell of wet paint was still attached to the picture. She wiped the wall with her finger; it was dry. She then scratched at the paint and found that it came off quite readily but did not crack. The picture was freshly painted. It would not even be that big of a stretch to say that it had been done within the past hour or two.

"Hotaru-chan!"

At the familiar voice, her head perked. She turned her head left and right, surveying her surroundings for the owner of the voice. Finding nothing, the inventor turned back to the picture only to find her face shadowed by a towering figure. She finally spotted her—no, him—behind her just as he held out two hands in a feeble attempt to cover her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Rui Amane broke out into an innocent smile as he stuffed his gloved hands back into the pockets of a large, loose vest. It was almost too obvious. No one wore gloves in the scorching heat of July.

Well, well, it looked like the artist found her instead.

"What are _you_ doing out and about around these parts?" he asked with a smile, holding an arm out in the direction that Hotaru had been walking towards.

"Ah," she told him, "well I was decidedly bored with the limited uses of my apartment and opted for bit of exploring instead. Instead of buying a map, I figured why should I not make one for myself? That way I would know which paths to avoid and which to drive through when I am in the mood for something delightful or scenic. If you think about it, it helps actually knowing the blueprints of a city if I am going to stay in the city."

Rui's laugh was like the jingling of chimes. "How interesting! I was just doing some exploring myself!"

Hotaru turned to him with knitted eyebrows. "But you should already know the area like the back of your hand if you draw tangerines for Hyuuga on a daily basis."

"What are you talkin—"

"You're wearing gloves," she pointed out flatly.

Rui tried to hide his dumbfound. His eyebrows shot up in feigned confusion and befuddlement. Hotaru's eyes flickered from his left hand to his right hand and finally back to his face. She raised both of her eyebrows ever so subtly in a questioning manner and proceeded to stare him down until he relented.

After some time the tall man broke, tilting his head to the sky. "Ah, damn. So it _was_ the gloves that gave me away."

He drew both hands from his pockets and slid the garments off, revealing hands stained in all sorts of different reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows. Dried paint fell out of the gloves as he shook them and stretched their fingers. After flapping the gloves some more to fling out the flakes, Rui poured sanitizer on his hands and donned the gloves once more.

"I get new pairs every single month," he explained when Hotaru shot him a look that clearly asked him why he went through all that trouble, "but I don't have to buy them. That's the upside of owning a convenient store. I love mooching off of my stock."

She shrugged, more interested in the giant piece of art. She recognized it to be one of the more popular pictures, along with all other pictures that contained both tangerines and cherry blossoms. "Do you come to paint tangerines every day?"

"Mostly during the night," he divulged. "Sometimes during the day, yeah. A lot of teens hang out at these parts. They don't mind me painting as long as I talk to them and let them take pictures."

"Ever got caught?"

"Do street painters ever get caught?" asked Rui, winking with a toothy smile. "I get away with a lot of things as long as I time and place them properly. Obviously four to ten evening and six to ten morning are huge no-nos. If it's quiet, I can sneak in a tangerine or two from noon to three, mostly in the wintertime. Any time from two to five in the morning is ideal."

"In the night you do not get full effects of the art."

Rui pointed a finger heavenward and exclaimed, "you're right! Which is why I prefer to draw mine in the daylight. I'm just sneaky like that. I'll let you in on a secret: my criminal record has yet to be blemished!"

* * *

><p>These summer days were mediocre and trivial. The hot weather set a thin, invisible blanket of irk and boredom over everyone. The only bustling places were the malls and tourist sites. Otherwise, productivity was down by quite a margin. Even Hotaru had been getting less business offers per day, though it was unsure whether it was that or the persistence of those companies beginning to wear off.<p>

For the first time in a long time, Hotaru felt like venturing outside of the great city. Anywhere rural would suffice, even if it was merely Nagoya. Yes, she would definitely go to Nagoya again before the end of July, as soon as Hayate brought back word from Alice Academy. Pleasant thoughts swirled around in Hotaru's mind as she twisted the handle to her apartment.

Her entrance was greeted with the wide-spread arms. "Imai-san! Welcome back!"

_That voice._ That abhorrent, detestable voice.

Again, his appearance changed, this time into a more casual T-shirt and cargo pants. His blue eyes twinkled with detested mirth and his gray hair, significantly shorter, stuck up until the ends.

She was unsure whether it was the sight of him that set her off or the fact that after their less than cordial parting he simply lounged in her apartment as if he had always belonged there. Hotaru did not remember welcoming him to stretch his long legs across her couch. She was actually too beside herself with anger to do anything but prevent herself from going absolutely ballistic.

And how did he get into her apartment in the first place? She knew the government had their shadowy, underhanded methods, but she never expected them to go that far.

Hotaru closed the doorknob, shooting menacingly, "are you attempting to threaten me with your presence?"

Chiaki chuckled and only when he started repetitively tapping his palm with a parcel did Hotaru notice that he had been holding it all along. She was so focused on the man's face that she did not see anything else, could not see anything else. Quickly, Hotaru scrutinized the room to see if anything had changed. Thankfully, things looked exactly the same as they had before she left earlier this morning.

Her eyes drifted back to the man with great vehemence as he began making his way to her. Hotaru strode towards him at equal pacing. He would not get the best of her.

"No, no," he reassured in an absolutely slimy voice. "I just thought that I should drop by for a little visit."

"Well I see that ARC has shown you straight into my home."

"No, no," he told her again. "I showed myself into your apartment. ARC just had a little issue they wanted to sort out with you." He slapped the parcel against his palm loudly just once more. "So, as usual, I'm sent here like the lapdog that I am."

If a lapdog was able to threaten her with his presence alone…

"You have the courtesy of a gentleman," she retorted dryly. "I cannot imagine any other reason for you to be so intrusive other than as a means of intimidation. I have yet to break any of the 'liberal' rules that you set for me so you cannot be here for that either. I strongly suggest you state what you want so that we can sort it out and you can leave, the quicker the better. Personally, I really, _really_ do not feel like seeing you right now. Or ever."

Chiaki H. raised both of his hands into the air flippantly. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger!"

With a sarcastic smile, Hotaru made sure his eyes lingered on her hand as she reached into her purse to pull out a spray bottle. Her arm hung loosely at her side while her fingers clutched the bottle tightly and readily. Chiaki smiled, shaking his head to himself pleasantly as if amused by her unnecessary measures.

"This is hardly a joking matter," she hissed, scowling and directing the opening of the bottle at him.

The fake air of politeness hanging in the air disappeared quicker than a snap of the fingers. Smiling Chiaki was arrogant and annoying, but unsmiling Chiaki was absolutely daunting. Upon hardening, the bright face revealed intimidating lines and shadows that were not there mere moments before. His eyes thinned and focused in a stare with degrees of intensity Hotaru could not fathom. More frightening was the fact that his line of sight did not lead to her face but straight to the opening of the pepper spray bottle and the shifting of her index finger right on top of the button.

"This isn't on your list of purchased items, and neither is that," he warned, pointing to Hotaru's shelves upon shelves of stacked bottles of pepper spray and sleeping gas, "which can only mean that you purchased these by illegal means."

_"Hey, Miss Imai—Hotaru, from hereon out we're no longer student and teacher, so if you ever find yourself in a tight spot, don't ever hesitate to call me for help."_

_She narrowed her eyes. "Why? I am from Irving Academy. You _hate _Irving Academy. I thought you would tell me to cease all contact after you leave."__  
><em>

_"Well, I do," he told her, a contemplative thumb pressing up on the underside of his chin, "but despite all the hardships, some things are still worth looking back on. I guess it's because I think of you more as a friend than a pupil."_

Hotaru scowled at Chiaki. "I need not explain the extent of my network to the likes of you."

He shook his head, unimpressed but also somewhat pained as if he did not want to be there dealing with her—or was it some other purpose? The mask he had put on revealed too little for Hotaru to decipher, not that it mattered. Chiaki seemed like a man who was much too ambitious to be contained within ARC. And she was very sure that she had no wish to be informed of his ulterior motives.

All Hotaru wanted was for him to leave her alone.

Half draped by bangs, his sharp, deep blue eyes rolled up to meet hers in a way that made her stomach lurch. "I should detain you on behalf of ARC. To think that even in your predicament you still find ways for them to punish yourself further. Please, Imai, it would be better for both of us if you just kept your mouth shut like an obedient pet."

He walked over to her table and slapped down the envelope forcefully, spilling all the contents until they were sprawled out on top of the glass surface. Chiaki turned, one hand on the table and another on his hip. His glazed beckoned—no, forcibly pulled her closer, until she could fully see the contents he presented her taunting her in their full glory. Hotaru looked up at him and saw that the tips of his smile were curled up in a gloat.

Her face was stony except for the occasional eye twitch that allowed him a glimpse into the chaotic ball of emotions clashing inside of her. Disappointment. Anger. Frustration. Despair. Only pride and poise, two elements she had been trained to display throughout her life, triumphed above them all and saved her from losing face.

"For someone as uncaring as you, it's really surprising to find that you actually do care about someone," he mused. "I have no idea how you got your letter into the academy, but fortunately it was intercepted before it ever reached Masachika. Else there would have been graver consequences."

"Masachika-san is not someone I am concerned about."

"No," agreed Chiaki, whose eyes softened in sure pity, "but there are three or four things that do concern you. Your nephew for one. If someone were to happen to him as punishment for what you did… Well ARC doesn't like touching young children so he's safe for the moment. But they have no qualms about your well-being or the well-being of your family. And while they can't touch American citizens, they certainly have no qualms about disconnecting you completely from that country."

The moment Hotaru opened her mouth, she realized that she was so enraged it was hard to see what was right in front of her. After quickly reassessing the situation, she clamped her two lips shut again. If there was one useful lesson she took with her from Irving Academy, it was to never let emotions govern her mind, especially in such a critical situation.

He smirked, "what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"I never did like you," growled Hotaru vehemently.

"That's understandable," his reply came surprisingly soft, "but hopefully what I'm about to do will make you dislike me less."

Hotaru doubted it.

"All you have to do is relay one message to Imai Subaru and I will forgo the opportunity to snitch your unlawful habits to ARC. In fact, I will even write a report to convince them how harmless your interests have been for the past few months."

At the mention of her brother, the anger stirred inside Hotaru settled into an alarming calm akin to the eye of a hurricane. Her mouth widened ever so slightly at Chiaki's familiar utterance of his name. Now that was a thought. Her own brother fraternizing with the enemy. She inwardly grimaced at how little she actually knew about Subaru and how little she impacted his life in comparison to the tight grip he had on hers.

"What is the message?"

Chiaki's lips pressed tightly as he turned away from her to the fluttering curtains. His hands busied themselves with gathering up the papers of a letter that had agonized her for days on end, a letter that meant absolutely nothing now. In the stuffy silence, his demand reverberated throughout all the empty rooms save Hikaru's.

"Tell him 'she is waiting.'"

He offered no further explanation. Nor did he elaborate on who the "she" was so Subaru must have had dealings with Chiaki and this mysterious woman in the past. Hotaru did not know the nature of the affairs, but they appeared to be grave if the subject itself had Chiaki's hands clamping her table until his fingers turned white.

"Fine."

He made no visible reaction at first. Gradually, the fingers loosened to seal the envelope once more, diligent and precise as if they were never trembling. Now satisfied, his face lost its sharpness to become numb and blasé. Jadedly, he reiterated ARC's warnings a second time in a more perfunctory replay of their first meeting.

Hotaru found it ridiculous.

"Enough with the dawdling. I know that you want to threaten me with ARC, but what does ARC want to threaten me with?"

He paused and stared at her blankly. Hotaru tried to figure out what was going through the messenger's head and whether he was trying to unnerve her by keeping her in suspense. Inherently a normal person would have been intimidated by an organization that hunted down and killed at their convenience. But Hotaru was not a normal person. And Chiaki had no way of knowing how much of ARC's reputation actually reached her ears.

"Weren't you listening?" he finally admonished. "They're letting you off with a warning."

"Oh, so they are _not_ blacklisting me."

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally in a slightly amused but mostly questioning manner. "And why would ARC blacklist you?" he asked slowly.

"Oh," deadpanned Hotaru. "I apologize. I just thought ARC was full of over-patriotic and sadistic bigots. They have a bit of a bad reputation from past assassinations."

Chiaki closed his eyes and sighed as if she just asked him to dumb down an entire university level lecture of quantum physics. "That is a misconception on your part. Yes, ARC did kill many people. No, they did not enjoy it. It had to be done because of the rebels' extremity. ARC wasn't let off easily for that. In fact, they were criticized by enough countries to realize that if they're going to do an execution they better shut it up. It's not likely to happen again. There are other ways to deal with the unwanted, like for example having someone else do the dirty work."

His feral smile sent a shiver down her back.

"You want me to kill someone for you?"

"Detain," he euphemized.

"Who?"

"Sakura Mikan."

Hotaru waited for the impact to come. It never did. Save for the crazy curiosity he aroused, she was oddly fine with the fact that her former best friend was now sought by one of the most pesky organizations in the world. The one fleeting thought she had laced with any kind of emotion was, _well,__ Hyuuga is not going to like this.__  
><em>

"Sakura-san. A Stealing Alice is really that much of a menace to ARC's operations?"

He shrugged. "They named a name. I reiterated that name."

"And what will ARC do if I refuse?"

"Imai, for the umpteenth time, I am not ARC," he retorted impatiently. "I have no idea what the organization wants. I told you to seek _them _out should you have any questions, concerns or complaints." He took a step closer and pointed his finger at her forehead. "Look, do you think I am in for all of this for _fun_? Do you think it's reverent for me to be running around kissing loafers for my job? I should be the one with that shelf of pepper spray," he barked, pointing heatedly. "The only reason I'm doing this is because my wife—"

His eyes widened and he suddenly fell silent just as her finger clamped down on the button.

Whatever method he used to get into her apartment had failed to save him. The spray shot directly into his eyes as he swiveled his body to mitigate the pungency. In seconds, he was on his knees, suffering from the sting of pepper in his eyes, nose and mouth. Hotaru would have liked to gloat in the sight of the hated man coughing and wheezing in front of her, but she herself was suffering from the effects of the double-edged weapon.

Her nose and mouth burned. Her eyes burned. Tears trailed out uncontrollably. She clamped one hand over her mouth tightly while breathing through it, screening out as much powder as she could. Still, it was of little use.

She only barely prevented herself from sneezing.

In one last attempt to demean the man, Hotaru chucked the bottle at his face as she stumbled her way to the door. There were two different thumps behind her as an indication of her accuracy. She smiled as she shut herself out in the hallway and inhaled the sweet, clean air. The inventor grinned at her hands. She always knew that practicing the calculation of horizontal trajectory of any given mass in less than ten seconds would come in handy some day.

But damn, that was a mess of an apartment she had on her hands. Subaru would not be impressed.

* * *

><p>"Hotaru-san!" a voice cried gleefully. "You called me!"<p>

Had she not gone through a whole half hour's mental preparation for this, Hotaru's poise might have slipped. As it was, a small scowl was already beginning to form on her face. She repeated to herself for the umpteenth time that it was okay. Dealing with Hayate was necessary if she were to dispose of Chiaki's body and question him later on.

But first, to grill him for his abysmally disappointing failure. "Why did you disobey my orders?"

He paused. "Your orders?"

There was no tolerance in her chastisement, "I specifically _told_ you to deliver the letter directly to Masachika-san. I _told_ you not to let it fall into the hands of a government personnel. Can you take three guesses who is in my apartment right now?"

"Uh—"

"And if you actually _do_ take three guesses, the next time I see you I will castrate you slowly and painfully on the spot."

He was silenced thereafter.

Hotaru's fingers tapped against her Blackberry in annoyance. "Come and clean up your mess."

"Uh—whaa?"

"Did you not hear a word of what I just said?" muttered Hotaru in an eerily soft tone. There was a body and a potentially enraged brother she had to deal with. She was far too tired to be open and brash about anything. "A government personnel barged into my apartment with the letters and demands from ARC. Is it not your fault I am in this situation? I have already knocked him out for you. You know where I live. Come and take the body somewhere, anywhere. I do not care. Just dispose of him and remove him from my sight."

* * *

><p>When Hayate burst out of the elevator he was all sunshine as opposed to Hotaru's thunderclouds. He skipped merrily to her side with a stupid, blanked out smile on his face, a telltale expression of his unreliability. After one look at him, Hotaru wondered how she ever entrusted this man with such an important task.<p>

"What happened?" he chirped. "What do I need to do?"

"Dispose of him," she hissed, pointing to the door. "I hope you brought a Teleport Alice with you because you will need one."

Hayate blinked sheepishly. "Uh," he said, scratching the back of his neck, "yeah, I always bring one around with me… Wait! How did you know—"

"Just take him from my sight!" she ordered, wringing open the door and shoving him straight into the crime scene.

What greeted them, however, shocked and puzzled both of them, Hotaru especially. Why, her apartment looked just fine! Hotaru was infuriated. The table was clean, the floor was clean, the couch was clean. Heck, even the air was clean. And Chiaki was _nowhere_ to be seen.

She ran to the middle of the living room for a wider perusal of her surroundings. Her apartment was in exact the same state she had left it this morning, before she encountered Rui. Ignoring the completely befuddled Hayate, Hotaru frenziedly ran around the rooms, looking under all the cupboards and sinks, inside all the closets and pantries only to find nothing and become even more alarmed. _Everything _was untouched. Even Hikaru's room was empty and left exactly as it had been since Subaru came; in fact, the sheets were beginning to collect dust.

_Where is he?_ she thought frantically, running back to the living room. _Where did he go?_

"What's wrong? Your apartment's the same. Everything's fine!" assured Hayate.

"No it is not!"

He escaped. _How__?_

It was a pressing, nail-bitingly nervous question in desperate need of an answer. Because if someone like Chiaki was able to enter and exit Hotaru's apartment at will so easily… Hotaru did not even want to think of the possibilities that opened for him and for ARC. She would never get another night's sleep again.

In vain, Hotaru ransacked her apartment for tiny clues of where Chiaki had gone. Even if she had a small idea what he was capable with, it could make a great difference in the grand scheme of things.

"Whoa, is that your brother when he was young?"

In midst of lifting up her sofa cushion, Hotaru paused and snapped her head over to the direction of Hayate's astounded exclamation. "What?" she demanded, all but pushing him away from the object of his attention.

One of Naomi's picture frames, one that had previously adorned Hikaru's preschool picture, now held a full fledged seven-year-old in an all too familiar white collar, black shirt, plaid pant uniform. Hikaru Imai stood in the shade of the giant Sakura tree, staring into the lens with apathetic eyes. One of his arms grabbed at the bark while the other hung limply at his side. He was now tall enough to reach the first knot of the tree.

Hotaru clutched the frame tightly, frowning and enunciating strenuously, "I seriously need a vacation."

"Really?" She had not expected a reply for a sentence that was directed to herself. Though it was Hayate, after all. Hotaru should have expected it. "That's great! I was actually going to call you tomorrow for this thing…" An unsightly blush was creeping over his cheeks. "Um, how could you like to go on a cruise with me—a-and the Alices—next weekend…"

In his outstretched hand was a single boarding ticket to Lady Sakura of the renown Nakamura Cruise Company with her name on it.

* * *

><p>Ack, okay this is mediocre. Chiaki's personality is a hassle to manage, although in my opinion he's one of the best antagonists I've ever made. Oh, and a little question: are the little flashbacks too abrupt? Should I take them out completely?<p>

Please alert, fave, review!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	11. The Unforgivable and the Unforgiving

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Eleven: The Unforgivable and the Unforgiving

* * *

><p>Across the Port of Tokyo, hundreds of neon lights emitted a warm, fuzzy glow. Their reflection danced merrily in the pacific waters, illuminating every wave and ripple. The lights, the gentle breeze, and the soft hum of the boats united in a comforting serenity.<p>

Lady Sakura, a relatively small cruise boat, was stationed amid it all, living up to her royal name. She was triple-decked, with walls painted a blinding snow white. In the semi-luminescent night, neon signs reflected off her paint and made her a billion different colours.

Even from Hotaru's standpoint a few hundred metres away, she could see Alices striding about on the deck of the ship, leaning on the rails and peering out into the tranquil bay. Especially easy to spot was Misaki's striking head of pink curls. The woman wore a blissful, rosy smile as she leaned her head on the shoulder of a darker Tsubasa, whose hair and navy suit blended with the night sky. The couple spotted her and waved briefly.

Hotaru offered them a wavering smile.

She was still tentative about Hayate's offer, especially since Natsume would be on the ship with her this time. In fact, her stomach's uneasiness increased in direct correlation to the decrease of the space between herself and the two guards of the boat. Her hands were also clammy to the point where she doubted the ticket would still be in one piece by the time she reached them.

Guarding the boat were two men both clad in black suits and striped ties. The left was a lanky raven with a sharp, pointy nose and pasty coloured skin that made him look absolutely ghastly in his uniform. Out of the two, he was the only one who formed a dimpled grin upon seeing her. His friend, a well-built man with foxy green eyes framed by classes could only manage a tight smile at best.

The latter placed himself in front with an impenetrable air of authority. "Good evening, madam. May I have your name?"

"Imai Hotaru."

"Welcome to Nakamura Cruising," the former informed with his smile firmly in place. "You'll be boarding in Room 205. Here's your card. Before you retire, I need you to wear this bracelet and step into the first room to the right. Hidaka-san will explain the rest of the accommodations."

Foxy-eyes clasped a tightly fitting bracelet around her wrist, almost causing Hotaru to jump at the touch of cold metal against her skin. He made no effort to secure it. There was no clasp on the bracelet but as she turned her wrist she saw that whatever opening it had before now closed off completely, a keyhole in its stead. Otherwise, the bracelet was very simple, no engravings or gloss. She suspected its main purpose laid in the clay-coloured stone it adorned. The stone was the size of a marble and it pulsated softly. An Alice stone.

"This way," directed the ghastly man, handing her the card and pointing her in.

She traveled from the corridor into the room rubbing at the stone and pondering what Alice it contained. It was impossible to tell from colour, for stone colours corresponded more to an individual's personality than his or her Alice. Funny enough, though, that the mechanism itself reminded her of some of the Truth Alice testings she had been subjected to in Irving Academy.

"Ah, and who would I find here but one Imai Hotaru?"

Her eyes snapped up in fright and alarm.

From a throne, the man stared at her blankly, his legs crossed and arms set on the armrests. He looked just as healthy as he did a week ago, only with a cleanly shaven face and jelled up hair this time. He was wearing an identical suit to the two guards. One of his shiny new black loafers pointed straight at her chest. His nonchalant face held no grudging feelings for her assault on him the other day.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

His eyes flashed from her face down to her bracelet. In his usual, perfunctory way, Chiaki pulled out a small, golden key and tossed it to Hotaru, who caught it with her free hand before raising one eyebrow at him.

"I'm supposed to question you, make sure that you are who you are and go through the usual security procedures, but let's just face it. Neither of us wants to talk to the other right now. I'm tired of your presence so just go."

Hotaru's eyes flickered to her bracelet. "Is this a Truth Alice?"

"What do you think?"

She angled her head in a questioning way, "well if so, I believe that you should be collecting it. Is it not what those bags are for?" She gestured at the various bags of bracelets adorned with gray stones lying at his feet. "Or are they there to create a false sense of grandeur for you, who is always at the bottom of the food chain?"

Again, he gave her a long, hard stare. "Maybe I was wrong about you."

"Obviously you had enough doubt to infiltrate AFO just to ensure that I would stay on country waters."

Chiaki snorted. "That's rather conceited of you. What makes you think for a moment that I wasn't one of them in the first place?"

Her blood ran cold.

"Ah, I understand," she finally muttered after the pregnant pause.

Hotaru left the room, limply dragging her baggage in tow.

Things were getting way too complicated too fast. She could deal with separate entities, separate enemies from separate part of her lives. But as soon as they started conglomerating… Hotaru loathed to admit that she knew exactly what would happen next. United, they had power. A prime example was Chiaki with the backing of the ARC Department. Would she have considered him much of a threat on his own? No, she would have squelched and dismissed him a long time ago. Now, Chiaki, ARC, _and_ AFO?

How she hated triple alliances.

"Cool Blue Sky!"

And there was always the_ other_ kind to deal with…

"You made it!" Hayate exclaimed, a hand touching on her bony shoulder which, thankfully, was clothed this time. "Isn't this _awesome_? Come on, come on! You haven't seen the interior yet!"

Despite the ship's size, Nakamura Cruise Company certainly did not sacrifice any elegance. The interior was a ballroom three floors high, illuminated by a chandelier half its size. Across the room, two grand staircases extended to the second and third floors and eventually out into the deck. Fifty Alices were lounging about in the ballroom, some dancing, some mingling. Waiters floated around carrying small trays of red wine and caviar crackers. On a stage in between the staircases, a pink grand piano was being caressed with Rui's magical fingers. He gave them all a soft ballad, a pleasing background lull to complete the sophisticated party scene.

A quick perusal confirmed that Natsume was thankfully nowhere in sight, but neither were any eighteen or nineteen year olds. Although Hotaru had no idea what Youichi looked like, she was determined to find him before the end of the night.

"Matusdaira, where is Hijiri-san?"

"Oh, I think I saw him on the deck."

Hotaru immediately ventured up the stairs, her luggage _and_ Hayate in tow, and the latter being more of a hinder between the two. For some unexplained reason, he was convinced that her luggage was much too heavy for her to carry even though she somehow managed just fine for the past seven years. As they climbed the stairs, he redundantly insisted carrying it for her and she rejected curtly each and every single time. She was sure that at least forty nine of the fifty people down there were having a merry laugh at the spectacle.

"Do you not have your own room to go to?" she finally sneered.

"But I want to help you find yours first."

She sighed with an underlying grunt of annoyance before speeding off on the second floor. Maybe if she shut herself in her room for a while, he would get bored and leave, allowing her to actually carry out her affairs _efficiently _for once. So occupied was Hotaru in getting to 205 as fast as she could that she barely noticed she was going down the wrong corridor until they almost crashed into the opening of door 216.

Out came a tall, skinny teenager with sharp, blue-gray eyes. He was dressed in black jeans and a plain T-shirt, obviously with no intention to dance or mingle with the adults. In fact, this boy had a spacey look on his face, a little like Chiaki's but less dead. He scratched his head absentmindedly, smoothing down a tuft of hair that stuck out in an awkward direction. Only after some elapsed time did he appear to see Hotaru and Hayate.

"Yo."

"Youichi!" exclaimed Hayate, causing her to perk up at the name. "Great seeing you again!"

The boy's stare bored steadily into Hayate's eyes. "Matsudaira. We had a mission together once before you graduated."

"Oh, you remember?"

The boy stared at Hayate as if he had just offered some blue cheese. "No," he said slowly, "the spirits tell me." He then turned his gaze onto Hotaru. "Did you know that there's a lady who followed you here? Her husband was a fisherman. She lost him at sea and she thought you could guide her to him." He averted his eyes into a spot behind the inventor. "He's not here. He's gone, at peace."

Hotaru smiled stiffly, unsure of what to make of this strange boy.

"You are Imai Hotaru-san, aren't you? You're that woman who just came from America."

"Did the spirits tell you that as well?" she asked sarcastically.

He gave her the same look he had just given Hayate, mildly offending her, as he huffed, "no. Natsume-nii did. He told me you'd be back in Japan as soon as you graduated. By the way, have any of you seen him?"

"Um, no, not really."

The ends of Hotaru's lips curved up in a twitch. Maybe Natsume arrived late and would be missing the boat after all.

"Well I'm going up to the deck to find him. He'll probably be there, searching for the spirit of Mikan. Yeah, he lost someone as well, but she's not dead, just gone. You should come with me." It took Hotaru a whole second to realize that Youichi was conversing with the spirit supposedly haunting her.

It took her another second to get over the queerness of that. In a blink, he was already halfway down the hallway behind her.

"Wait," she called, whirling. "I need to talk to you."

Youichi only turned his head lazily. "I'll find you after dinner then. The spirits will tell me where to go."

"This will take but a second," she insisted, almost desperately taking a step forward and shoving Hayate aside. "I heard from Shouda-san that you graduated earlier this April. You must have heard about the child who was admitted two years ago, Imai Hikaru. Tell me how my nephew is faring."

"Hikaru? He's fine. Our class is treating him well."

"Your class?" But Sumire said that Youichi was in—

"Yeah. The Dangerous Ability Class."

If the entire world was made of a globe of glass, that globe would have shattered violently at that very instant.

Youichi's words echoed through her head like a vivid nightmare._ The Dangerous Abilities Class... Dangerous Abilities... Dangerous..._ How could it be? How could Hikaru be a dangerous type? It simply did not make any sense. He inherited the Healing Alice from his father, something that was surely latent or even special type. Hotaru would give him special, but dangerous? If anything, his Alice was completely opposite from the kind that would be classified as dangerous type. And she should know; she had her fair experience with dangerous Alices in her lifetime.

"How?" Hayate suddenly voiced her thoughts in an outcry. "I thought Naomi-san didn't have an Alice and Subaru-san's got a Healing Alice. That shouldn't be dangerous!"

Hotaru gripped her suitcase tightly. _For once, this birdbrain can think._

"He used to be latent," explained Youichi factually, "but that was before he accidentally used the Pain Alice on his classmate. Apparently he hurt her so bad that she had to be hospitalized for two days. After that, he was temporarily reclassified as dangerous. Temporary. Until he learns to control his Alice. When has anyone actually been _temporarily_ put in the Dangerous Abilities Class?"

Youichi shrugged as if to tell her there was nothing he could do.

"Excuse me," Hotaru barely managed.

In her devastation, all that was surrounding her became nothing but a blur. She staggered down the corridor. Hayate ran to her side immediately, offering help with carrying her luggage, with finding her room, with walking. All of his words were completely lost to Hotaru's numb brain. The only thought that occurred to her was steadily putting one foot in front of the other until she reached room 205. Discerning the loud bump her luggage made as it was forcibly dragged across the threshold, Hotaru slammed her door before limping and flopping eagle spread on her freshly made bed. She buried her face into the pillow, uncomfortably breathing in lingering wafts of soap from the sheets' last wash.

In this vegetable state, she began to reflect. If what Youichi said was indeed true—and she could not imagine what an eighteen-year-old stranger could possibly gain by lying to her—then all hope was indeed lost. Alice Academy had been strict enough to she and Subaru and they were not even close to being dangerous ability.

_So it would seem that once again, I have failed._

With a broken smile, her body racked in dry sobs and trembles. She balled up her duvet and held it close to her chest until she could only breathe in small pants. For hours, Hotaru remained in the fetal position, not really awake but not really sleeping. She was in a lucid state, trembling and hiccuping as the sky turned from navy to deep black. Even the lights outside slowly became dimmer and dimmer as they sped away at a breakneck place. For Hotaru, it only meant that the darkness was that much closer to engulfing her and swallowing her whole.

_I am not worthless_, she traced over and over in her sheets, whispering it to the dead of the night every time she finished.

Someone rapped on her door at a little past ten. She made no effort to get up and walk over, but the presence of another human being in her vicinity did do a lot to calm down the trembles. She panted heavily into her blanket ball as the person unexpectedly opened her door with a master room card.

"Imai-san, I brought you your dinner."

She sat up, her hair disheveled and her face a tired, shadowy mess. Immediately, the light in the doorway hit her face and she shied away from it, grunting, but not before she saw a worried Ruka with a large tray in his hands.

"Imai-san!" he exclaimed, setting the tray aside to run to her. "What happened?"

"N-nothing," she gritted, fisting the sheets vigorously. "I am just a little tired."

He was not convinced.

Hotaru turned to the food with a sigh and tired eyes. Ruka saved her an entire dish of seafood, some seaweed, sushi, fried potatoes, miso soup, and a bunch of assorted desserts. It looked like the rest of the Alices had buffet while she was busy trying to control her seizing body. Ruka, being the considerate man he was, also brought utensils and napkins as well. She thanked him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked nervously.

She nodded.

In his unintrusive nature, Ruka sent her a meek smile and suggested, "well, just make sure that you don't make a mess and don't forget to bring the tray down later tonight or, um, tomorrow morning if you're sleeping early." He then slipped out of her apartment as quickly as he had come, taking care to switch on the light for her on his way.

Minutes after Ruka left, she reached two arms down to limply pick up the tray and set it on her lap. Hotaru looked down at the unappetizing food. If she had it her way, everything would be chucked into the garbage and down the sink in less than two seconds. But she knew better than that and she also knew from experience that her withdrawals became even worse if she stopped eating. Reluctantly stabbing a fork into a potato, Hotaru proceeded to force every morsel of food on the tray down her mouth.

* * *

><p>The way she carried herself as she walked with the rest of the Alices out of the cruise boat and onto Oshima Island the next day deceived everyone but Ruka, who sent her a worried look before deviating his own way. Hotaru kept a small smile fixated on her face. Along with the minority of the group, she headed on a trail up a mountain instead of the beach.<p>

All kinds of strange, striking vegetation flourished just beyond the trail. Flowers peeped from the cracks in the rocks. Ferns stuck out a lazy arm as if to purposely tickle any wandering passerby. Hotaru took her time to enjoy the scenery around her, almost wishing that she had a camera so that she could snap some photos along the way.

Eventually, she reached the top of the mountain where she could gaze miles and miles out into the clear, blue ocean and a few little uninhabited islands. A little farther out, there was a cozy gazebo and a friendly gray-haired woman that beckoned her closer.

"Isn't it beautiful here?" asked Shizune. She, on the other hand, actually did bring along a camera and was in the process of snapping many pictures in rapid succession.

"I have never seen anywhere like it."

"Ah, I love going to new places," she exclaimed. "You could say it's part of the reason why I decided to become a diplomat. Working for the government doesn't have nearly as many benefits as people say it does, you know?" Hotaru briefly thought of Chiaki and his jaded, miserable state. "Usually people have reasons for being employed."

"What is your other reason?"

Shizune faltered, "o-oh, well I suppose they do give good pay. I get to meet a lot of new people and make many connections and I get really nice health and travel benefits, not to mention insurance."

Hotaru narrowed her eyes. "Yamanouchi-san, the last time we talked I recall you saying something about Sakurano-san being the head of the Special Abilities Class. You seemed quite close to him, in fact. Forgive me if I am wrong, but if you are in fact good friends with him then were you not good friends with my brother as well, before he left the Alice Funding Organization?"

The gray haired woman was a little puzzled. "Well, I suppose I was."

Hotaru replayed all her encounters of Subaru and then all the bits and pieces other people have said about her brother. It was just too puzzling to try and piece together all of them. Discrepancies. That was the main problem. Her mother's story hardly added up to Chiaki's ties with her brother and Subaru's own opinion of Natsume and AFO's activities. Whatever he did, she was sure that he did not just leave Tokyo for his son.

"What was he doing for the two years that he was with you?"

"Subaru?" asked Shizune, glancing up at the sky in wonder and tucking her hair behind her ears. In the gentle breeze, the gray strands swayed to and fro gracefully. "Subaru's just been Subaru. He left his student teaching position to pursue university around the same time I did. He was in med school for some ten years, met Naomi along the way, married her and had a family. Later, when Natsume-san graduated, he helped create AFO. Up until he quit, he was one of the main messengers along with Sakurano."

So almost nothing that was of help, except the messenger part which was just about as vague as the universe is wide.

"What is his relationship with Hidaka-san?"

Her thin, gray eyebrows furrowed this time. "He had a few exchanges with Yoko after discovering that she was the one who took you across the seas. I don't know the nature of the exchanges as he's never told me. He seldom talks about the Hidakas in general."

Now it was Hotaru's turn to be surprised. She did remember that a lady took her overseas straight to Irving Academy and that she did not think much of the lady. As a kid, she could hardly care what Yoko's eye colour or hair colour was; had she not just been another hated personnel to Hotaru?

"I see…"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" suggested Shizune, smiling. "I'm sure he'd be more than willing to tell you about his life's journey. He's waited his entire life for you to come back after all."

_Then why does he not want me here?_ Hotaru thought, staring defiantly at Shizune.

"Okay," she finally conceded.

* * *

><p>"Did you know that your son is in the Dangerous Abilities Class?"<p>

She did not quite intend for the call to begin that way but the words slipped through her lips before Hotaru could muster up anything else to say. As soon as they were out there, the inventor did a spin and silently cursed herself for getting off to a bad start with Subaru once again. Not that it was ever any different anyway. Since her visit to Nagoya, their conversations were mostly Subaru being irritated at her and Hotaru rebutting or ignoring his crankiness.

"What?" It was not a _what _of disbelief. More like a _what, how did _you _find out?_

"How does it not faze you," she demanded, "knowing that he might be in danger at any given moment of the day? In our days in the academy, these kids were sent on missions that—"

"Shiki already stopped sending them on missions. It's more likely that the Dangerous Abilities Class exists nowadays to keep them in check and refrain them from harming their peers."

"Of course that is what you are told. Hikaru will be ostracized from his peers before he can even lay a finger on them."

"Hyuuga was ostracized from his peers," drawled Subaru. "Look where he is now, leading his band of Alices."

Irked, Hotaru snipped, "do not even go there."

There was a pause as both of them took a moment to recollect themselves and piece together their arguments.

"You're right," Subaru finally admitted. "Hyuuga is very underhanded. Maybe you'll find out the hard way someday."

Hotaru scowled. "Do not change the subject. Do you not care at all for the welfare of your son?"

He preluded his rant with a long and dreary sigh. When he spoke, it was with much annoyance and contempt, "of course I do. Who do you take me to be? I'm his _father_. It would be inhumane for me not to care for and love my own flesh and blood _son_. What I cannot understand is why you appear to care for him more than Naomi and I do.

"Hikaru is not nearly as helpless as you and mother think. He can look after himself as well as you and I have before him. Do not underestimate your own kin, Hotaru. As a child, I lived in an age of peril, witnessed a beloved teacher die and an upperclassman barely escape from the clutches of an evil man. A decade later, I was thrown back into the turmoil that killed the same upperclassman, corrupted her child, and stole my sister. You took charge of communication during the Rebellion singlehandedly before spending a decade and half in a foreign country establishing your own name and fortune from scratch. And you think that my son cannot handle being in the Dangerous Ability Class?"

Hotaru let go of a shaky breath. "He is but seven, Subaru."

"So what? I was six when I was attacked by Persona. The Academy officials could do nothing for me. I survived because I was able to take care of myself. You don't have to worry about him, Hotaru. Shuuichi informs me frequently of his great accomplishments. He is a three star and he can even make his own Alice stone. Not many people can accomplish that at his age."

She stared blankly at the wall in front of her. "What about Naomi-san? Is she fine with all this? Does she even know all this?"

"I—" he cut himself off, letting the silence fill in the rest of the sentence.

"See, this is why I somewhat empathize with Naomi-san, and why she divorced you."

"What?" Subaru's tone was sharp.

"You two really are like night and day regarding affairs that concern Hikaru. I know you already kept most of this from our mother and I even agree to some point, but do you not think that as Hikaru's mother, Naomi deserves to know about the risks and dangers her own son is placed in? After all, the main reason for her anguish is her lack of understanding for the entire Alice world. So why would you shelter her from this? You are not Hikaru's only parent."

He was silent for the longest time.

"You will never understand, Hotaru, what I have given up as a father, a husband, a brother, and a friend. You will _never _understand."

Through the speaker, his voice was coarse and raw, every treble and crack audible to the naked ear. Hotaru stood there, stunned, finally understanding why he had not ruthless shot down her first request to go home. Doing something like that would just be the lowest of the low. Any snide reply to a voice that hid absolutely nothing was akin to stealing bread from the starving homeless. All she could do was swallow a lump that formed in her own throat and softly agree.

"Just let me do things my way and I will no longer criticize you for doing things yours."

"All right." She supposed that the tension between them was too high for her to ask about his past affiliations without receiving equivocal or elusive responses. "I just have one more message to pass to you then."

"What?"

"Hidaka Chiaki wants to inform you that 'she is waiting.'"

What she got back was the beeping of dial tone.

* * *

><p>Their given schedule for Sunday was absolutely unrelenting. At five o'clock sharp, the Alices had to be back in the dining room of Lady Sakura. Sumire wanted to squeeze in a quick speech before sending them up to their rooms to pack. At seven, they were come back down again for one last meal. Eight in the evening was the scheduled time to arrive back in Tokyo and if the Nakamura Cruising Company knew anything, it was punctuality.<p>

When Hotaru reached the dining room, Sumire was already doing a head count. As soon as everyone arrived, she tapped a spoon on a wine glass much too fervently in Hotaru and many other Alices' opinion. They did stop their chatter and turn to face her though.

The woman raised both utensils into the air joyously while exclaiming, "we approach the end of the cruise! I hope everyone had a good time."

There was unanimous cheer which Hotaru excluded herself from.

"Now, we reach Tokyo in a few hours. When the meeting is over, I strongly suggest everyone to go back to their rooms and pack. Nakamura's not going to be happy if you dilly dally. Oh, and a shower would also be a good idea."

A few people laughed heartily.

"Okay, so now that that's over, let's all take a moment thank Umenomiya Anna and Tenoki Miruku for preparing our meals; Hidaka Chiaki for keeping order; Hoshimaru Hibiki and Takahashi Jiro for being the awesome tour guides they are; and last but not least, Nakamura Shinji whose uncle lent us the cruise ship and made all this possible."

Sumire pointed to a short, balding man who looked absolutely embarrassed to be in the centre of the spotlight. Loud applause exploded throughout the Alices. Koko and Kitsuneme even reached over several heads to gave him a pat on the back. Rather than partaking, Hotaru simply stood in place and scowled at the mention of Chiaki's name.

"Before we leave, we're going to have one last meal in the dining room. I will count seats. Do not miss out on this. This is our last dinner so no come and go as you please as some of you have during last meals. Yes Natsume, I'm talking to you. We're going to sit down at seven o'clock sharp and eat like a family. Then you may have your lives back. Got that Imai?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ruka shooting her a look of worry for the umpteenth time.

"Okay, now go pack, you sweaty gorillas. Andou couple, I said go pack, not have sex. Just because you knocked her up, Tsubasa, doesn't mean that you can bang her anytime you like. There is a time and there is a place…"

Their meaningless chatter became background noise as Hotaru scanned the throng of bodies for a lanky, spaced out eighteen year old. Her recent conversation with Subaru brought a few details to her attention, especially the one sentence Youichi said a while ago that did not quite make sense… There he was. Walking up the first set of stairs aside Natsume. Luckily, Natsume's room was on the third floor so Hotaru quickly slipped past all the people to grab Youichi just before he entered his room.

"I need to talk to you," she stated, latching a firm grip onto both of his shoulders.

"Have you noticed then?" he asked and her erratic heart, instead of calming down, raced twice as fast.

"Have I noticed what?"

He pointed behind her. "She's still following you around. She's getting a little restless now. It's been three days and you still haven't led her to where her husband is. She's going to put a curse on you soon. I can prevent that if you like."

"By all means," insisted Hotaru, stuck between utterly creeped out and relieved, "but that is not what I am here for. I need to ask things regarding Hyuuga. Privately."

Youichi nodded, complacently letting her in and shutting the door gently behind them.

Hotaru exhaled a breath of relief. "Thank you Hijiri-san."

"You don't need to address me so formally, you know, Hotaru-nee? I knew you back in the academy. We were on the same side during the rebellion."

"That is fine. I address everyone cordially," said Hotaru, too pressed for time to argue about the correct honorifics for their relationship. Her words all came out speedy and jumbled. "The first day we met after you graduated, you told me that Hyuuga knew I would come back as soon as I graduated. How?"

Youichi's gray eyes met Hotaru's violent ones. His gaze was steady but also laid back while her sharp eyes assertively pressed for the truth. Finally, the gray haired teenager sighed, "gee, That's a touchy topic, Hotaru-nee. Are you sure you don't just want me to get rid of that ghost for you?"

"I am far more concerned with Hyuuga's interference than I am about a ghost."

Youichi held out a hand, not to her but past her. He beckoned the spirit over and flicked his finger against what looked to Hotaru like thin air. "Okay, she won't bother you anymore. Natsume-nii told me he promised never to speak to you again. Is it true?"

Hotaru confirmed.

"Well that's too bad." His eyes found themselves back on hers again. "He used to desperately want you here in Japan. He always thought that you knew where Mikan-nee was. Before you came, Aoi told me that he spends most of his time staring into small objects, objects that remind him of Mikan-nee. She would wake up to find him smashing dishes against the wall in frustration. It used to scare her endlessly. She would always tell me that she wished Shizune-san could help him bring you back faster so that you could set him right again."

"He brought me back," she whispered frantically. "He brought me back."

Brushing aside Youichi, Hotaru set out on a rampage to comb ever single room of the cruise ship for Shizune. The ballroom was now empty except for the clean-up crew consisting of Alices she did not know. Hotaru whipped around as fast as she could and headed for the kitchen, but only Anna and Mikuru were there, too busy preparing for the feast to even notice her. No one but Sumire was in the dining room; Hotaru kept her mouth clamped shut, speeding past her in case she tried to start a conversation. The second and third floor corridors were completely empty, as was the deck of the ship.

It was almost six now. She had wasted to much time.

Hotaru returned to her room. She packed furiously, stuffing everything into her bag as quickly as possible.

The variables were all in place. Everything made sense. The answer was just not one she intended to arrive at.

Gritting her teeth, she decided to leave and search for the woman for a second time, only to crash into a very solid body. Both of them stumbled back, apologizing at the same time. Both of them looked back up, started at the familiar voice.

"Imai-san? What are you doing here?" It was the first time Ruka had not looked nervous when speaking to her in the past three days.

"Never mind that. Where is Yamanouchi-san?"

"Shizune left her room long ago after getting a call. Apparently she returned too early and now they want her back in Japan. She's been running around for the whole time trying to say goodbye to everyone. We should head down. It's already six forty five and, um, Sumire can be really menacing sometimes."

He escorted her to her room where she picked up her luggage and towed it down to the dining room. Most of the Alices already congregated there and were settled in their seats. There was a mountain of suitcases and coats piled against the wall nearest to the door. Some other vainer Alices draped their blazers on the backs of their chairs because god forbid that even a speck of dirt were to ruin that soft, black velvet sheen. Shizune's table, unfortunately, was already full of women and Ruka's had Natsume so Hotaru grudgingly took the only seat left beside Sumire.

"Hello Imai-san!" exclaimed Kitsuneme. "Remember me?"

"Yes. I always remember the people I have been introduced to."

The only upside of sitting in the same table as Sumire was that the gregarious woman did such a good job of supplying conversation that no one paid attention to Hotaru's preoccupied state. She was free to spend as much time with her eyes fixed on Shizune as she possibly could. More than once, Hotaru tried to catch the gray haired woman's attention as she accidentally glanced her way. But Shizune was too caught in conversation with her fellow Hana Hime girls to notice Hotaru's stare.

When the food came, the only thing Hotaru could taste was panic—panic that she would not make it in time and panic that she would. Because if she would, and if all of her fears were absolutely confirmed, then she had even _more_ of a reason to hate Natsume.

Hotaru's eyes flitted to the clock every thirty seconds. Minute by minute, time ticked by until the small hand was almost at the eight and the big hand was on the nine. The plates of food were reduced to simply plates. From across the table, Koko let out a satisfied burp before getting chastised by Sumire.

It was at this exact moment that Shizune excused herself to head to the restroom and Hotaru hurriedly got up to tail her.

"Yamanouchi-san!"

About to enter a stall, the older lady turned around. "Wakamurasaki-no-kimi?"

"I need to ask you something. You must promise to answer me truthfully."

Shizune turned and walked to Hotaru. She now looked very concerned at the inventor's unusual behaviour. With knitted eyebrows, the woman ensured, "of course, Wakamurasaki-no-kimi. You know I'd never lie to you."

"Did Hyuuga make you or anyone else pull some strings within the government to bring me back to Japan?"

Shizune opened her mouth.

"Please, just give me a yes or no answer."

The gray haired woman closed her eyes gently and nodded apologetically. "Yes."

Hotaru inhaled and exhaled deeply. Well, at least she took it better than she expected—perhaps because she anticipated the answer, had known it since the talk back in Youichi's room. She expected her knees to fail her like they did when she found out that Hikaru was a dangerous type. They did not. They stood firmly. But they were also paralyzed and stiff as she channeled all her anger into clenching her fists and gritting her teeth.

"I hope you won't be too hard on him," sighed Shizune. "All he ever wanted is to find on Mikan-san. Natsume-san never knew the kind of feelings you had for America."

Hotaru nodded, but only to give the appearance. She put one foot behind another, backing out of the bathroom cautiously. Shizune's steady, apologetic gaze never left her face until she turned around the corner. In blinding fury, Hotaru whipped around and swept out of the bathroom.

The dining room was a chaotic mess as Sumire tried to maintain order until the boat landed. As soon as one Alice saw that it was seven fifty, he got up and fetched his coat. Naturally, everyone else followed suit. A few more minutes elapsed noisily and still nobody was ready to leave. Sumire unnecessarily screamed at the top of her lungs, which only added to the chaos. The inventor herself walked straight through the mass, angrily shoving them out of her way and disregarding their snide protests.

As she reached her luggage, she saw Shizune exiting the washroom.

What a shame that people like Shizune and Ruka, who never deserved this, would have to witness such an ugly scene.

A firm but small bump confirmed the ship's landing. The time was now seven fifty seven. As soon as the Alices felt the bump, the racket amplified twofold. They all made for the door at the same time, pushing and shoving to be the first one who got back on land. There was no way for Sumire and the tour guides to get everyone under control.

Hotaru lingered behind, sneering condescendingly at the unsightly scene. Not one of them had stayed behind to help clean up. Empty glasses, plates, and wine bottles still remained strewn over tables.

She swiftly grabbed the nearest bottle of Pinot Noir and, with sharp precision, wrung it at a wall. The smash of glass resounded throughout the entire room, capturing the attention of all the impatient Alices. They froze.

"Good evening everyone. My name is Imai Hotaru and I would like to give my very own toast to Hyuuga Natsume here, who came up with the brilliant idea of manipulating your government to send me an ocean over from America." She alone clapped slowly, loudly, and sardonically. "Truly impressive, Hyuuga. I want to thank you by personally promising to use _every single one_ of my connections to bankrupt the entire AFO and all its associates in the next five years."

Everyone, including Sumire, was silent.

Hotaru sought Natsume out in the crowd and smiled his direction. "Somewhere out there, you have a _special_ place in hell."

As she left the room, the Alices parted for her like the Red Sea did for Moses. Whether they did it in disgust or dumbfound, Hotaru would never know. She was preoccupied with pulling out her Blackberry to check the time. It was exactly eight in the evening.

* * *

><p><p>

LE GASP. OH, THE DRAMA. Yes, so here you see Hotaru and Natsume conflicting further, not that it's anything new. It's still interesting to write about, and even though Natsume hasn't really spoken much for the past seven chapters, he will very _very _soon.

Please alert, fave, review!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	12. A Deal With the Devil

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Twelve: A Deal With the Devil

* * *

><p>Monday saw Hotaru in one of the crankiest states she had ever been in. Early in the morning, she unintentionally awoke a little past seven. She barely stuck a foot out of bed before groaning and shutting her eyes again, praying that the sandman would take her away from her world once more. He did not. Whatever ability the sandman had was clearly overwhelmed by the sheer power of the sun. Since she forgot to draw the curtains last night, it streamed in from the windows onto her eyelids, creating a warm, reddish tint that shattered her tranquility.<p>

Hotaru turned over, opened one eye, and stared groggily into the city.

She forcibly dragged herself up to face a horrible day. Her appearance was almost as scary as she anticipated. There were enormous eyebags under those purple irises, hair that fluffed all over the place, and a permanent tiredness etched deep in her features. She was slumping greatly and she could not for the love of life bring her shoulders upright.

Zombie Hotaru made her way over to the kitchen to fry herself an egg, momentarily taken back to the university days when she and Janine lived on cup ramen. Right now, she had no energy and no will to make a full, hearty meal. Just a little bit of protein could get her through until lunch.

Grabbing the salt and pepper, Hotaru took a seat on her dinning table. Interesting. Even the egg seemed less appetizing now. Frowning, she stabbed into it repetitively, breaking the yolk apart into crumbs of yellow.

Out of nowhere, a pale hand set a glass of milk in front of her.

"This'll make you feel better," said Chiaki.

Hotaru looked at the glass dully, then looked at him, then looked back to the glass. "Did you poison it?"

"How underhanded do you think I am?"

She stabbed her eggs again, this time twisting the fork and grinding it against the plate. "Not as underhanded as Hyuuga, that much is certain."

He showed himself to the seat across from her. There they swiftly sat, like two complete strangers forced to endure the presence of the other for an entire day. Which was half true in a sense. "Well that's a new one. I didn't think you could possibly hate anyone as much as you hate me."

"Admittedly, right now you are not as high as you should be on my hit list," she offered, turning away from him to dump her empty plates into the sink. "Why did you come here? _How_ did you come here? I should really consider buying myself a new apartment."

"Right," muttered Chiaki bitterly. "This one's your brother's."

She stood by the open concept kitchen, one shoulder leaning on a pole. "I already relayed your message to Subaru. What more can you possibly want from me?"

In a curious thought, Hotaru wondered whether she and Chiaki had the inverted emotions of what they were supposed to be thinking. Past all the initial grouchiness of waking up, she found herself surprisingly okay with the idea that she was now estranged from Natsume and his cronies for good. Meanwhile, he seemed grumpy. Really grumpy. So grumpy, in fact, that in his silent sulk, he almost stared hard enough into her _glass_ table to make it spontaneously combust.

"You didn't get me what I want."

"I did exactly as you asked. It is not my fault if you failed to be succinct with your demands."

He stood sharply, ready to do leap but then stopping at the last second.

Hotaru pushed her arm off of the pole, crossing them as she stood. She could not make a run for her cans of pepper spray and sleeping gas because he could intercept her faster. Until she figured out how he managed to escape from her apartment, that particular strategy would not be very efficient anyways. So she settled with Plan B, namely mediating, "do not be so provoked. I am the one at a disadvantage here. The ball is in your court right now and I still do not know what your Alices are."

"Morphing," he grunted, pointing a finger at Hikaru's photo frame. Hotaru's eyes widened as the pixels rearranged themselves back into the old picture that her mother had given her. "What?" he snorted at her incredulity. "You've never seen a Morphing Alice before?"

"No, I have. I just thought that you replaced the picture."

"Me? I have not seen _his_ son for two years, neither do I want to. Your whole family is intim—irritating," he seethed. "But you also have something I need, so I will make you a one time offer. Get Imai Subaru to do me one favour and I will give you this—"

Hotaru gasped as he drew a sheet of paper from his shoulder bag and held it in front of him. _The Massachusetts Institute of_ _Technology _was engraved on it in huge letters. The sheet was crisp, flawless and almost glowing to her eyes. One of the appeasements offered for her early return was for that to be sent to her by the end of summer. She had already become suspicious after June had gone without any word of it. How in the world did Chiaki Hidaka get that particular bargaining chip?

"That is my doctorate you are holding in your dirty hands."

"Do you want it?"

"How did _you_ get it?"

He dismissed the question. "Get me one favour from Imai Subaru and you have this along with the promise of never seeing me again."

"What do you want from my brother so desperately that you cannot just go to him and ask?"

Chiaki disappeared.

Hotaru was stunned into silence for an entire five seconds. She shook her head, growling at his uncanny escape. Well, now she knew how he got in and out of her apartment without entering the front door. The only problem was she neither knew how he did it nor how to prevent it. The most likely situation was that he had duo Alices—Morphing and Teleportation, only Teleportation Alices did not allow the user to just pop in and out instantaneously. The process was gradual and could only be done if the user knew had a either a picture or coordinates of where he or she was going.

Suddenly, the door opened and closed behind her. Hotaru swiveled quickly only to see the lock turning ninety degrees clockwise.

… It looked like things just became a whole heck of a lot more complicated. A person with the Invisibility and Morphing Alices was just a _lapdog_? How was she ever going to get out of this one unscathed?

* * *

><p>In an old MIT hoodie and jeans, Hotaru rubbed her temples thoughtfully while opening her laptop and accessing the Tokyo Stock Exchange website. All three stocks she had been keeping an eye on for the last few months—Sakamoto Hotel Corp., the Nakamura Cruise Company, and Akaki Sushi Deli took considerate blows this week. Moreover, only one out of the three was steadily profitable. Today was the day another two or three percent of AFO's company stocks transferred into her hands.<p>

She glanced up at the clock. One in the afternoon. Perfect. Right on cue.

Grabbing her purse, she head out of the apartment, already aware of the route that she was going to take. Every time she left her home, she instructed her taxi driver to drive on one street in particular. No one had refused her. They were always happy to put on more mileage; it meant more money, after all.

On top of that, taxis were conveniently easy to get, especially since the front door of Subaru's apartment building lead straight to a busy street. Not even five minutes after she exited the building, Hotaru was already strapped in the back seat of a cab.

"Tokyo Stock Exchange through Yamashita street," she stated. "I feel like watching the scenery."

The cab driver furrowed her brows before turning. Most of them did that. Hotaru's routes had not one iota of sense. To get from her apartment to Yamashita street to the Tokyo Stock Exchange, one had to make a huge loop around the city. Her drivers often looked at her funny and sometimes even questioned her in a disguised casual manner before letting it go.

Throughout the entire trip, the inventor propped her chin on a palm and stared out of the left window. If the driver happened to look in the mirror, she would naturally think that Hotaru was just enjoying the scenery. Her purpose for taking this route, in fact, had nothing to do with how nice the neighbourhood was. She was intently searching for a head of yellow.

So far, there was no such luck, but sooner or later, she knew she would eventually spot him.

They were now rounding a bend near where he had chosen to paint his giant tangerine. She squinted at the building and, sure enough, she saw Rui armed with garden gloves and a black apron. There was a satchel lying on the floor with several spray paint cans peeping out of the opening. He was in the centre of a group of teenagers, some recording with their fancy phones and others merely observing.

"These juveniles vandalizing again," grunted Hotaru's driver, stopping at a red light. "I see it happening everywhere nowadays, especially in the night. There's a fine for five hundred dollars and up to three months' of jail time if you get caught."

"Do the cops ever catch them?"

"Well that's hard to say. They're nimble and never stay in one area for too long. Sometimes the Tokyo Police slack off too. There's plenty of theft in the city but only one in about eight cases get reported."

"Hm," Hotaru said as she fetched her blackberry to dial one one zero.

"You have reached the Tokyo Police Station. How many I help you?"

"I want to report a case of vandalism. Right now, I see a blond haired _woman_ painting the walls of building 6478 on Yamashita Street." As too many complications would arise from describing Rui as a crossdresser, Hotaru chose to give a false gender instead. "The medium she is using is spray paint. The culprit is pretty tall, around five eight. Right now, she is wearing gloves and a black apron. Her painting looks half done, so there is reason to suspect that she will be here for another few hours or so."

The female cop typed loudly on the other end of the line as Hotaru described Rui. "Okay. Thank you for the report. We'll send a few officers over to investigate immediately."

Hotaru smiled to herself as she hung up.

"You're one to take initiative, aren't you miss?" her taxi driver remarked.

"Indeed," Hotaru told her, most pleased. "I figure that since there is no one to report crime around Tokyo nowadays, I should. After all, the more people that obey the law, the more peaceful our city will become."

* * *

><p>The autumn months passed by speedily. If Hotaru had to say so herself, she was faring much better than she had hoped. Already she had inched her way into the inner circle of Sakamoto's company, having acquired a little over ten percent of all his stocks. Akaki's business was nearly obliterated. The Nakamura investment was going a little slower but still progressing steadily. One of her newest tasks on hand, sending a few competitors the Umenomiya Bakery's way, was also coming along nicely. Having an Invention Alice came in handy when one wished to bribe small businesses into working for her.<p>

In other news, Rui Amane had hefty charges and a more damaging criminal record attached onto his name. Good luck to him if he ever tried to make it as an artist, or a musician, or any kind star that attracted mass publicity henceforth. Every agent, after seeing that, would have a hard time not turning him down.

Still, there had been no attempts to contact her. Hotaru was quite surprised at how the Alice Funding Organization held together. Sakamoto should be starting to panic. Sumire must have been spreading rumours left and right about Hotaru. Everyone else must have been enraged about Rui. Yet still no one called. No one came. No one blew up.

Not that she had any complaints. Things were better this way.

Just as Hotaru was reveling in her success, she realized that she had made this assumption all too soon. A frantic rapping on her hardwood door arrived mid November. She knew it could not be Chiaki for he had not visited her in a while and when he did, he would never be so polite as to knock before he entered.

To be honest, Hotaru had every reason to expect Sakamoto on the other side. So she was surprised, just the slightest, when she saw that her unusual visitor was actually Hayate, in even more of an unorganized mess than he usually was. Hotaru rethought it on the spot and decided that there was nothing surprising after all. His entrance suited him exactly. Only he would knock so loudly and drastically and show up in an abominably unsightly state.

"Why are you doing this?" he cried the moment he saw her. "Please, what did Natsume do to you? I'll make up for it, I promise! Sakamoto-san is already panicking and Rui got _arrested_. Please, stop this madness. It's not funny anymore."

"It never was."

"Will you just tell me? Please, Hotaru-san. Cool Blue Sky, _please_! Don't make them hate you more than they already do. There's a ruckus wherever I go, and some people are starting to blame Natsume!"

"As they should," she hissed, trying to shut her door on him. "I do not know what justified Hyuuga to do what he did. He wronged me in a way that I can never forgive him for. How about you ask _him_ for his selfish, arrogant excuses before coming to me with any beseeches. Maybe even someone as_ stupid_ and _boneheaded_ as you will see him for what he actually is."

He stopped her with a surprisingly strong elbow. "I beg of you, Cool Blue Sky, don't do this! Don't do this! Please! Just go back and apologize! Please!"

Hotaru let go and took a step back, allowing the man to fall forward from the momentum. A second chain lock that she had put on the door restricted it from opening all the way. Hayate banged his head on the wood in a cringing, concussion-worthy way. To Hotaru, it was just seconds of her time wasted before she could set him straight and turn him away from her home.

"Do not _ever_ grovel from anyone," she disdained. "It is demeaning, humiliating and it makes me think less of you than I already do. If you wish me to stop, if you are really that cowardly, then stop letting Hyuuga play you like a chess piece and grow your own brain. I have no need for someone who is loyal to him."

"Why do you hate Natsume so much?" he asked desperately, hands clutching his head. "Why can't you two ever agree on anything?"

_Because he had everything I did not. And he threw__ away_ everything.

Perhaps the problem was not that they disagreed in anything. It was that they agreed in everything—not in their opinions and faiths but in their actions, so much so that it was a scary parallel.

"You cannot like someone who is an embodiment of all your flaws."

Before he could say anything, she lunged at the door, shutting and locking it in one leap. For a moment, everything was silent. Then, Hayate continued his erratic banging and rattling. A few passionate words made it through the cracks, albeit muffled enough to sound like absolute gibberish. For another five minutes and thirty four seconds, the banging ensued before it finally became silent again.

Hotaru remained slumped against the door for hours more.

* * *

><p>The violet eyed inventor only ever knew Sakamoto to be a gigantic, brooding presence. When he raised himself to his full height, he was a little more above six foot five, towering well over all other Japanese citizens. His fair hair was always brushed back to show his entire forehead. Though he was well in his fifties, it had yet to start graying—or maybe he simply dyed it. Regardless, he was one of those businessmen who always managed to look professional and on top of things.<p>

Too bad she never got the chance to approach him amiably. When they finally met, they met as two bitter enemies under the pretense of cordiality. During her first conference as a member of the board of directors of the Sakamoto Hotel Corporation, they shared a vigorous handshake. He grasped her small hand firmly within his, squeezing as hard as he possibly could in an attempt to crush her very bones.

She smiled pleasantly back at him.

Hotaru was not the only one bluffing but she was the better one.

"Imai-san," he sneered, "the rising star. How are you? Shall I accompany you?"

"I am wonderful," she shot confidently, "in every sense of the word. Just last month, in fact, I sealed a deal with Nintendo. I sold them an advanced game console model for a billion yen. If all goes well, the new line should be out in three or four years." Apparently, even with her PhD in Chiaki's hands, her bachelor's and reputation still served as great leverage even over the most famous companies.

"That's… spectacular," he croaked. "I noticed you've been buying many stocks of the Sakamoto Hotel Corporation recently. As of the end of February, you own a little over twenty five percent of the company. Is there any reason for such an abrupt interest?"

"I figured it would be a good investment," her voice was cool. "After all, I did room in one of your hotels when I first arrived from Japan. I found it to be quite… satisfactory. There were no cameras or microphones of any kind at the very least."

His face was paralyzed in a cold smile. "I look forward to welcoming you onto our team. I hear from several reliable sources that you are quite capable, Imai-san. Perhaps we should have a private meeting to discuss the future of the corporation. How does ten o'clock next Saturday morning at the Starbucks at Kitasenju Station sound to you?"

"Fine." Even though it was a complete waste of her time, there was nothing Sakamoto could say or do at this point that would change her motives. Let him try, Hotaru thought. His feeble attempts serve as nice enlightenment to her dull life.

"Great. Here's my business card if you ever need to contact me." He all but shoved it into Hotaru's hands and she stared down distastefully at the lowly piece of trash.

"Thank you," she hissed. "I apologize for not having my own on hand but I am positive we will soon be very well acquainted anyways."

"Hm." Sakamoto sped up his strides, no longer interested in what she had to say.

Hotaru tore up his card and threw the bits into the nearest trash can she could find.

* * *

><p>Starbucks was a place that reminded Hotaru too much of America. It was part of the reason why she liked meetings being held there. The coffee shops were not as abundant in Tokyo as Boston or New York. There, she could almost find one every two blocks. Here, there was one every five blocks or so. Once, these stores served as a haven to businessmen who wanted a quiet atmosphere and free Wi-fi to finish up some quick work before attending a meeting. Now they were just littered with obnoxiously loud teenagers.<p>

Was that what non-Alice teenagers did, visit Starbucks on a daily basis? While she was still alone, Hotaru pondered the subject for a while. Whisked from one place to another in her childhood, she never did know much about _normal_ life. Granted, if she had not decided to attend Alice Academy in the first place, she would still be in a small town with a closed mind.

Stirring a single coffee, the inventor shot a glance at the door to search for the presence of Sakamoto. While he was not yet late, he did not arrive early either. A bad sign. Ten o'clock usually meant nine fifty. It was impolite for the invitee to show up later than the invited.

Hotaru rubbed her temples and mechanically stirred her coffee. It was snowing again, not blizzarding but fluttering gently. The aimless kind of snow. The kind that one could stare at for hours without really staring at it, much too lost in far off sentiments and nostalgia—or in Hotaru's case, lack thereof.

"We meet."

If only one's ears could bleed at the ugly sound of hearing her adversary's voice instead of her business partner's. Hotaru would much rather the business partner, as grudging and difficult as Sakamoto would have been. At least if he was there, she would never have to worry about being provoked or being on edge for the entire time she was in his presence. Albeit, he would have annoyed her greatly. She gave him that. But he was not low and he was not manipulative and he did not have red eyes and black hair and the name Natsume Hyuuga.

Sakamoto would not slide into the opposite seat after dragging it out with a screech. He would not have been wearing an ugly brown, scratchy-looking hat and he would certainly not have violently dusted snow off of it by beating it repetitively against the edge of the table. His hair would not have resembled a crow's nest. If it had been him, Hotaru would not have been absolutely disgusted on the other side of the table.

"You broke our promise."

He did not answer for the longest time. She took the lapse to examine the way he chose to present himself.

As usual, Natsume Hyuuga was dressed in cheap, baggy clothing. His brown jacket was stained with every colour of chalk imaginable and his baggy jeans were horribly ripped at the knees. A typical vagrant. She leaned back, peering under the table just to ascertain that he did not come barefoot. While Natsume was wearing shoes, they looked like tattered rags glued onto his feet and their soles had clearly been coming off for a while now. She could hardly bring herself to believe those sneakers had originally been white. How did he even manage to remain warm in this weather?

"I see that Sakamoto-san did not manage to make it." She paused as he fixed his appearance even more. "You _dare_ show yourself in front of me after what you did? You _dare_ break the very agreement that _you_ yourself proposed? I am telling you right now that I will not back down from my promise just because you had the audacity come here today."

"Are you finished?" he drawled, leaning back arrogantly. "Is it my turn to speak now?"

"Your sarcasm is lost on me Hyuuga. Use it on someone who can tolerate it."

He set his hat on the table. "Never thought you of all people would make rash decisions, _Imai._" He _dared_ to mock her! "I only came because Sakamoto kept squabbling to me about your plans to take over and destroy his company. You're a fool. He's a fool. What else can I do? The way I see it, this is a bluff. I doubt you even know how widespread the Alice Funding Organization is."

Her fist tightened until she dented her coffee cup. How dare he belittle her abilities. How dare he suggest that she set herself up for failure.

"Do you honestly think I give a rooster's nest about your opinion? To be honest if the two of us were locked in a room for an entire month, we still would not be finished yelling at each other after the thirty one days expire."

"I don't want to talk to you either," he hissed, "but I don't have a choice. Otonashi says that you have the key."

She almost snorted. This again? As if she had the key to anything. The only lead she had on Mikan Sakura was—

Oh. Right.

She refrained from banging her head against the table at missing such an obvious fact for _months_. Of course the key was the object that had been in the red pouch. It explained why it was empty, why she did not remember anything about it, everything. It must have slipped Janine's mind at the time because she was so tired. Heck, it escaped Hotaru's mind for the longest time. Even now, it was still collecting dust back in her apartment, buried somewhere beneath all those drafts of the letter to Shiki.

In Natsume's face, however, she easily snorted and rolled her eyes. "Is this about Sakura-san again? It seems as if the entire world—or Japan at the very least—is revolved around a single woman."

Angry flickers passed through Natsume's irises in rapid succession as he licked his chapped lips thoughtfully. "I don't care what you think about me or Mikan. Even if you don't want to help me, you will. I'll make you."

"With what?" Hotaru hissed, her blood boiling.

"Your nephew," he said, for once silencing her. Underneath the light, his red eyes looked sharp and dangerous. Hotaru had been sure that he was about to make a threat until Natsume elaborated, "I can get him out of the academy for a week, as long as you stop doing whatever you're doing to AFO and promise to help me find Mikan."

She wrinkled her nose in disbelief. "Hikaru is a member of the Dangerous Abilities Class. It is virtually impossible for anyone from there to escape Alice Academy before graduation, unless their Alice fades or is taken from them. Even you cannot get him out by any legal means. You are lying to me, Hyuuga," she bit out, eyes piercing fearlessly into his.

"I can bring you your nephew," repeated Natsume, enunciating every syllable with impeccable clarity. "I have my ways."

"If you failed to find Sakura-san in fifteen years, what makes you think that I can find her?"

He offered no answer but instead informed her in a drone, "we'll meet again in the same Starbucks at the same time on the first day of the Golden Week. You might as well book a train to Nagoya in advance. I _will_ have your nephew with me."

Natsume rose to his feet, fitted his cap back into his head and, without so much as a goodbye, stomped out of the store. He made such a noticeable exit that a group of teenagers pointed and jeered at his unruly attire. The bell on the door jingled as it opened and closed. Then, all was silent in the Starbucks shop. Too silent. It was as if a storm had come and left. His presence had been so abrupt yet disturbing Hotaru had to replay her memory of their meeting twice just to stick the entire scenario in her head.

ARC or Natsume Hyuuga, it seemed that Mikan Sakura was the target. As for Natsume's offer…

"There is no need to invest in the impossible," she muttered to herself, stirring her coffee with newfound vehemence that could not be rivaled.

* * *

><p>Things will get <em>exciting <em>from this point onward! I promise!

Please alert, fave, review!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	13. Cat in Nature

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Thirteen: Cat in Nature

* * *

><p>Golden Week. Seven consecutive days extending from the last week of April to the first week of May. One of the most celebrated holidays in the Japan since nineteen forty eight.<p>

And absolute hell for anyone boarding anything to get from point A to point B, which incidentally happened to be _everyone_ in the country.

Encompassed by a mass of affluent figures, all clutching laptops at their sides and speaking through cell phones propped on their shoulders, was the second youngest scion of the Imai family. Like everyone else, she was trying to squeeze through bodies to board the VIP compartment of her train. Never mind that it was virtually impossible for anyone to slip past anyone when everyone was shifting in the same direction at the same time. The crowd would have taken her with them had her feet not moved fast enough.

The entire thing was absolutely ridiculous. This was not even Shibuya station; it was Kitasenju. In preparation, Hotaru had bought tickets from a less prominent train station in hopes that there would not be as much traffic, for the stories she heard of regarding Golden Week were borderline terrifying. Of course, _that_ particular idea worked out _exactly_ the way she had intended.

Somewhere in the background, her phone was ringing. She would make a reach for it but her hands could barely move right now. She would have to call back once she was in her compartment.

Hotaru made a mental note to ask Ross to smuggle her some Teleportation Alice stones in advance come Golden Week next year. As her shoulder was roughly shoved by a man twice the size she was, she peevishly thought that nothing could possibly make this day any worse.

Except… "Attention all passengers, would Imai Hotaru-san, please report to Kiosk C. Imai-san, please report to Kiosk C. Thank you."

Never mind knives, she glared bombs and cannons at the speaker. Sometimes it helped immensely to make an announcement such as that _before_ the requested person was rendered immobile. Even as Hotaru turned her head, another wave of pushing broke out amongst the people, propelling her forward and almost making her trip on her feet.

"Attention all passengers," the broadcast repeated, "would Imai Hotaru-san please report to Kiosk C to pick up your nephew. Thank you."

Well, in that case…

Hotaru did a one eighty and pushed against the crowd. Her efforts were as arduous as trying to escape the gravitational pull of a black hole, or swimming against the tide with two arms chopped off. She could not fully describe in words the unsightliness of the act. She just knew that she was never, _ever_ going to do it ever again.

The train station, like all others, had platforms sorted by numbers. Hotaru emerged from platform fifty one into a grand hall with many corridors branching off into other platforms labelled by large platform signs on their entrance archways. In the middle of this hall was Kiosk E. She did not really remember many details about the train station, seeing as she had been more preoccupied with rushing away from the disorderly holiday mess and into a spacious compartment. However, she did remember that Kiosk D was somewhere near the thirties, so she headed in that general direction.

The inventor pushed her way aggressively through the dense crowds of families in the grand hall. Her luggage rattled behind her, occasionally catching on the straps of luggage or someone's foot, in which case it would tilt a little and balance on a single wheel before falling back onto the floor with a soundly thump. There was not a single iota in Kitasenju Station that mattered besides getting to Kiosk C. The people might as well be faceless. There could be suspicious men there with nicely packaged bombs in their hands and she honestly would not have spared them a second glance.

Through the narrow space in between the arms of a couple, she saw a lady in a green railway uniform. The woman had her upper body bent away from Hotaru and her hands on her lap. "I'm sure she'll be here soon," she assured.

"Yeah, I know," the child's response was all but washed away in the background buzz. "Thanks miss."

Then, they met.

It was a most absurd and dreamlike moment. At the same time that the lady in uniform turned away to once again request the presence of Hotaru Imai, Hotaru Imai shouldered her way past the last group of people standing between she and her nephew. She stumbled forward, taking a few extra steadying steps just to retain balance in her heels.

He stared up at her.

She stared down at him.

Neither of them really knew what to say.

But it was Hikaru. It really was, though he was not quite what he looked like in the pictures. The seven year old was just high enough to reach Hotaru's waist. His wide, purple eyes regarded her face with the certain degree of curiosity that existed in all children. He tilted his head left five degrees, as if trying to decide what to make of this grown woman in front of him who had the same eyes as his father and himself.

His gray hair was fluffed around his head, a little airier than Subaru's though just as straight. His skin was pale and creamy. He was not dressed in Alice Academy's uniform, but a casual T-shirt and baggy shorts. But she did not fail to notice the golden star that remained pinned to his side, or the necklace adorning an oval blue stone worn around his neck.

"Are you my aunt?" he asked candidly.

"Yes I am."

"Okay," he stated.

It was really that simple. Hikaru accepted that fact without showing any elation or disgust, as if he had just made an observation. Hotaru herself was also making many, constantly, about him. Despite all the trouble she had gone through to fetch this child, she herself had yet to actually develop an opinion on him. Him, as in the actual person. Him, as in Hikaru.

"Oh thank god you're here!" It was the lady in the railway uniform, flocking to them. With busy, gesticulating hands, she explained to Hotaru about how the child had been found by a red-eyed stranger, how the man would have stayed to find her but could not because he needed a train to catch.

_Rubbish_, she thought, _Hyuuga, __you are just too much of a coward to face me. _Although there was really no reason why he would not. With this, Natsume had leverage against her, as much as she hated to admit. Funny how her feelings _still_ had not take a turn for the better in the least. Without his actual presence here, it was easy to undermine the degree of influence he had in their meeting. It was like Hikaru was just there. That was all that mattered. He was there and it did not mean a single thing how he actually got there and who was responsible for him being there.

Except it did. It actually mattered astronomically. Hotaru just could not wrap her mind around it.

"Can you please sign this?" the lady asked, handing her a pen and a document that said that she was responsible for picking up a child and was, in fact, his legal guardian.

The inventor quickly scribbled a signature down.

"Awesome!" She beamed. "You're free to go!"

She nodded, and gently nudged Hikaru on the shoulder towards an exit to the crowded train station. Hikaru followed close by her side without her having to say anything. Sometimes a few people would brush by his small figure, obstructing his path, but he would just jog a little to make up for the lost distance. She did not even have to slow down her pace to match his. It was very convenient and relieving in a way. At first, she was deliberating whether to hold his hand so that he would not lose himself. But she hated the feeling of being babied when she was a kid and she was sure that he hated it just as passionately.

"Where are we going?"

"Nagoya," she said, "to our family."

A small crease appeared in between his eyebrows. "Really?" he asked, not exactly in the most enthusiastic of voices. "For how long?"

"Three days. Then I will take you to see your mother, if you know where she is. You do know where she is, right?" A small nod. "Good. Then that is that. For the last day, I suppose I can tour you around Tokyo for a little."

He nodded again, seemingly satisfied with her response.

They were now descending the many steps that leveled the train station off the ground. There was a swarm of cabs on the streets below. Around them, people were running about everywhere in a last attempt to catch their train. More people were simply sitting on the steps while calling friends or family with cell phones and headsets. Around a Sakura tree, kids chased each other with joyous laughter, sometimes running fast one way and then abruptly stopping to run in the other. To Hotaru, these little details were trivial. What was important was that Hikaru was the one _really_ taking a glimpse into the normal life. In the seven days that he left the academy walls, she wanted him to see as much of the outside world as possible, to provide a different perspective than one that had been thoroughly filtered and then readily delivered to him on a platter.

"Hey." He suddenly tugged at her arm. "Are you really my aunt?"

"Yes."

"Then can you tell me about Fermat's Last Theorem?"

She paused mid step to glance down at him. Hikaru's face was the picture of innocence but it was such a feigned picture of innocence that Hotaru had to hide a knowing smile. She turned the other way so that he would not see the blatant amusement painted on her face. A cheeky kid, he was, but a smart one nonetheless. Nostalgically, she compared his skeptical questioning to one of her rare memories before Irving Academy of she and Subaru challenging each other with intense academic problems.

"Of course. He hypothesized that it was impossible for two numbers to add to a third if all three are bases of exponents with a degree higher than two. His theory had no proof beyond the fourth power so the validity of it was speculated for hundreds of years. Andrew Wiles is credited with proving it in the late twentieth century but preceding mathematicians such as Euler and Lamé also proved the impossibility of such addition with other degrees of powers."

He seemed to accept her answer, nodding his head from side to side. While he was doing this, she tried looking for an inconspicuous spot to teleport from, which would be easy except there were no inconspicuous spots in the bright afternoon on a holiday in Tokyo.

It was not long before he tugged on her arm again. "Do you know Schrödinger's cat?"

"Schrödinger's cat deals with the idea of a superposition of a particle—that is, for example an electron being in all of the places that it could possibly be located in simultaneously while only appearing in one place when one tries to find it. Of course, you know from Heisenberg's uncertainty principle that when an electron is found, it is also moved, therefore making it impossible to actually find an electron. Well, Schrödinger made a theoretical situation where he put a cat in a sealed, soundproof box with a lethal device that could be set off only if a subatomic particle was in a specific position. The idea is that without looking and knowing, the cat could be either alive or dead, and arguably both at the same time. But when one does look, the cat must be alive or dead because it cannot actually be in two states at once."

"Do you think he was successful in explaining the concept of quantum mechanics?"

"I honestly do not know." Hotaru stopped and blinked for a second, surprised at the honest answer that she gave. "Schrödinger's cat is something that I have never needed. I suppose it is a rather original analogy and maybe it does help people understand these concepts. Maybe he was just a cat person. I honestly do not know."

"Okay."

He stopped talking for a while so Hotaru told him about her plan to use his Alice stone to teleport to Nagoya. As Hikaru did not object to the idea, she could only assume that she had his permission. They walked down Kitasenju street. She briefly considered entering a store but then remembered that most stores had security cameras. Besides, would it not be absurd if two people walked into a store and no one walked out?

"We can just go," suggested Hikaru as they arrived in a crowded plaza. "No one's going to notice the disappearance of two people when there are so many."

She was going to call a cab and take them back to her apartment, but from the honking of horns it did seem like a lot of cars were being held up. Driving downtown during a holiday was a nightmare because vehicles were rendered useless when too many people crowded the streets and intersections. Not to mention the odd jaywalker who believed that he was god and would somehow obliterate any vehicle coming his way with bare fists. Between that and just disappearing, disappearing seemed like the better idea at the moment.

So Hotaru nodded.

"You are taking me to Nagoya, right?"

"You can take me if you distrust me that much."

"It's not that I distrust you…" but he contradicted his words by looking down and avoiding her gaze.

Hotaru stopped and squatted until her face was level with his. She let go of her luggage for a moment to cup his cheeks with her palms. "I will not take offense if you do. I have been absent for your entire life, a figure that you have only heard of but never known. I _want_ you to test my character and judge me for yourself. It is the reason why I was so adamant on taking you out of Alice Academy. I want you to see and judge the world for yourself. Now tell me, how can I possibly want that while expecting you to trust me unconditionally upon our first meeting? I do not. I _cannot_. That would be extremely hypocritical of me."

He was biting his lip and taking it all in, nodding every two sentences. When Hotaru was finished, she smiled and took her hands off of his cheeks before rising to her normal height once more. Hikaru brushed the places where she had touched him, though no visible emotion displayed on his face.

"I trust you," he finally said, causing her eyes to flicker incredulously. "I do. It's the truth. I don't think you'd hurt me even if you weren't my aunt."

"You never know," Hotaru warned him.

"But it's true!" he protested, two fists clenched at his side. "I think you just want me to know that you can get everything right, so that I think you're a great aunt. I don't know about Fermat's Theorem, or Schrödinger's cat. Well, I do know that Fermat made a theory about how the addition of _a_ plus _b _plus _c_ can't apply when they all have powers higher than two and that Schrödinger did some experiment involving a cat that may or may not be dead—" he pause and took a deep inhale "—but not in the detail that you explained it with. That was just—I mean, I learn a lot from just talking to you."

Hotaru truly did not know what to say.

"I swear I wasn't trying to trick you or anything! I thought that if you were really my aunt, you'd know about _everything_!" He emphasized the word by spreading his arms in a huge circle. "I just wanted to see how you would answer a question that's more complicated than one plus one because one plus one is easy and everyone knows that it's two, right?"

Whether his question was rhetorical or not never mattered in the first place. As soon as it was out there, the cogs in her brain automatically began turning at lightning speed.

She almost thought in the way of a calculator. In her mind, the numbers and symbols appeared one by one. First the one, then the addition sign, then the other one, then the equal sign. Two. One plus one was two.

She opened her mouth to confirm, but as she did an irrational fear stopped and paralyzed her. Because… even if one plus one was two, what if it was _not_ two? Because one plus one does not necessarily have to be two! Technically zero point six would constitute as one as it could be rounded to one, but zero point six plus zero point six equaled one point two, which could also be one. And similarly, one point four and one point four made two point eight, or three. A person was one. But a person and another person could have as many as seven children. Did that mean one plus one was nine? One positive and one negative nullified each other. Did that mean that one plus one was zero? To write the kanji for ten, first a horizontal stroke was made and then a vertical stroke. So one and one made ten as well. And eleven. That was right. How could she have forgotten eleven? Added textually as opposed to mathematically, one and one would just be placed next to each other.

"I do not," she muttered shakily. It felt like a vulture was picking at her skull. Maybe she ate something laced with narcotics earlier. She felt dizzy. She kept seeing Ross Anderson's face in front of her.

_"Miss Imai, I think you know the reason why I called you into my office today."_

_His office was swirling and turning and bobbling as if she were stumbling into it while drunk and disorientated. The colouring was off. Her teacher's face looked like liquid, rippling every time she tried to stare straight at him. But the scene was painfully familiar—her first conversation with Ross Anderson._

_"No, I do not know sir." _Hotaru did not know whether she said it aloud or not. The words were so clearly ingrained inside her head.

_He slapped a bundle of papers down in front of her. It was a centimetre thick, but only the first two pages were test pages he handed out. Everything else had been added by her, blank pages detailing all the possible answers she could think of to the questions he created. Hotaru picked it up and flipped through it quickly, noting that her teacher had not scribbled anything on them. That was good. No corrections meant that nothing was wrong. On top of that, she had gotten a perfect mark. She did not see what the problem was._

_He clearly had a problem, though. A big one. Why else would he look so exhausted, with that frustrated hand constantly combing through his hair? Hotaru stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Christ," he finally did, "I've been a teacher here for six years and I don't think I've ever come across anything like this. Honestly, when I asked for the velocity of the bullet, I didn't expect you to include air friction or friction with the gun or the amount of force the barrel applied and for how many milliseconds it was applied. I didn't ask for a chart detailing the velocity for every hundredth of a second as it flew through the air. I didn't ask for you to calculate the trajectory or acceleration or energy, nor did I ask for the percentage errors. I especially don't remember asking for or mentioning the shape of the bullet, the gun and what specific types they are. These are all assumptions that you have made on your part. This question should not have taken eighty pages to answer. The only reason why I gave you full marks is because I saw that the first answer was correct and frankly, because I didn't have enough patience to even _look_ at the rest."_

_Hotaru blinked incredulously. When she had been told to stay after school, she had been scared that she somehow did something unlawful and would be punished. She had been anxious. She had not expected her teacher to call her in and give her compliments._

_"I won't lie to you, Miss Imai. I wanted to burn that test." His eyes flashed angrily. "Don't_ ever_ do this again."_

_"But all my answers were correct."_

_"That's not the point."_

_"They were!" she protested hotly, dropping her paper back on the table. "A rifle with a twenty one point six one inch barrel shoots significantly different from a handgun with a four point five three two inch barrel."_

_"You don't know if this is a twenty one inch barrel rifle or a four point five inch barrel handgun. All the question states is that it is a gun. You are not to assume what gun it is."_

_Hotaru gave him a disapproving look. "Sir, I know that these questions are hypothetical statements, but they should at least be realistic. Physics is all about modelling real situations, is it not? If this were a real situation, then there would only be one gun, one type of bullet, and fixed factors. There would only be one answer, which I have found in my test because I have written a variation of all possible outcomes."_

_"Don't call me sir," Ross Anderson told her, frowning. "Never address someone by their title. It's demeaning and disrespectful, both to you and to myself. _I don't call you 'student' or 'child.' _I am Mr. Anderson, a person. I have a name and I refuse to be addressed otherwise."_

_"Yes Mr. Anderson," she retorted, holding back the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance._

_"Miss Imai, have you ever heard of Schrödinger's cat?"_

_She shook her head._

_"But you are familiar with the ideas of quantum mechanics, specifically Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and quantum superposition?" He held out his left hand towards her, fingers outstretched, curved downwards in a questioning manner._

_"I am, Mr. Anderson."_

_"A particle is in every single one of its positions at the same time until a test is actually done and one conclusive answer is reached. Logical reasoning will tell you that there is only one particle and that it can only be at one place at one time." He held up a single finger. "Like there is one answer to every single question, just as you said." He leaned forward then, matching her height even though he was only sitting. "You are mimicking the concept of quantum superposition, Miss Imai. Yes, all of these answers are true, but at the same time only one of them applies. The one is what I need from you. Just that one and nothing else, do you understand me?"_

_"Yes, Mr. Anderson," she sighed frustratingly, "but i__t still does not mean that I am wrong."_

_"No it doesn't." Ross Anderson's eyes pierced into hers. "It just means you have horrible self-confidence and a stringent phobia of failure."_

_She tired not to flinch. Tried not to. But she did. And she immediately cursed herself for failing again, not that he would notice anyway. She had several moments like this every single day and each one was gradually becoming worse than the last. Like she was being torn from the very inside. Like a rotten fruit that was only decorated to look pretty so people would buy it._

_"I'm generally not an intrusive person and I won't delve into this any further if it discomforts you, but if you ever want to tell me anything, I am all ears."_

_"Is that all?" Her knees were weak. She could barely stand._

_"Yes." He was not even looking at her anymore. "You are dismissed."_

"Aunt Hotaru?"

Hikaru's voice dispersed the image and brought her back to Tokyo, present time. She glanced around wildly for a moment, overwhelmed by the change in scenery, the people and the tall buildings. Her breathing was shallow. She didn't understand anything: who she was, why she was the way she was, why she had met Ross Anderson and become friends with him, why she endured the Memory Project, why she was an Alice, why her nephew asked her for the answer to one plus one.

"What is the answer?" she whispered, latching her fingers onto his shoulders wildly.

"It's two," he stated with confidence she could not fathom. This time, it was he who was holding her steady, and he who was ensuring her sanity. It was she who held onto him like she was the seven year old child who needed support.

"Two," she murmured to herself, as if it were some mystical number. "Two… One plus one is two…" Her hand rose to her forehead. She dragged it down her damp, sweating face, wiping it dry.

It was Hikaru who grabbed her luggage with one hand, Hikaru who grabbed her hand with the other and Hikaru who teleported them both to Nagoya in an instant. The city faded out. The people and the buildings disappeared. In its place were mountains and the blue sky and old houses with brick walls and chimneys and farms and an old, concrete school and everything she had grown up around. Hikaru's hand squeezed hers one last time before he let go.

"Auntie," he said meekly, while tugging at her khakis. "Do you have an anxiety disorder?"

Hotaru was still shaken and clutching her head with two hands. "No," she admitted, dropping to a crutch. and staring hard into the ground. She felt extremely light-headed, disorientated. "I just can't—I can't…" she struggled to find the word "—I can't _deal_ with failure."

He racked his brain. "Isn't there a term for that? A-aticki—"

"I'm atychiphobic."

"Oh, yeah, that."

He knelt down beside her worriedly. Seeing the adorable face of her nephew contorted with such concern hurt Hotaru to no end. His eyebrows arched in and his lips stuck out slightly in a frown. To blot out the image, she shut her eyes while heaving a huge breath. Another wave of nausea and dizziness surged through her body, this time weaker but still effective enough to make her feel like heaving.

And then suddenly that feeling was gone. Replaced. By something warm and fuzzy.

Hotaru opened her eyes to find her nephew's hands held out just at the two sides of her head. A luminescent green glow emitted from them. It was ticklish, intangible but at the same time existing. It felt like he was injecting some kind of pleasant substance into her head, one that made her want to curl towards it like a mewing kitten.

"Is it better now?" he asked.

Only then did Hotaru realize that the glow was no longer there. She cautiously lifted her hands a few centimetres off her head, suspicious that the headache and nausea would return. It did not so she rose to her feet shortly after.

"Amazing." She felt even more vitalized than she did on normal days. In fact, she would not mind climbing a mountain at that very moment.

Hikaru put a small hand to his chest and sighed, "whew! I was scared that it wouldn't work. I've always healed cuts and scrapes so I didn't know about mental pain."

"You are a saint child."

She expected Hikaru to smile or deny her praise modestly, but all he did was look into the distance and then frown. This time, it was not an expression that carried worry but reluctance and even a little bit of anger.

"Auntie," he finally asked, "do you love me?"

When he was staring at her with huge, innocent violet eyes, there was little Hotaru could do but nod, even though she knew it was a ploy of his to get a favour from her. And sure enough, right after the nod he gestured for her to lower her head.

She did and he whispered something so quietly that even the wind could not carry the words away.

"Then, can I please not see my father?"

* * *

><p>To say Mr. and Mrs. Imai were shocked to see their grandson would be a massive understatement. To say almost anything would be a massive understatement. The truth stood that Hotaru's mother almost fainted when the two of them showed up at her door. Hikaru, who had been afraid that Subaru would come running if she did, quickly grabbed the two wrinkled hands that clenched the doorframe for support. He pulled her upright and walked her, albeit shakily, to the sofa.<p>

"Oh my god," Mrs. Imai was hand-fanning herself. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

This was the point where Mr. Imai rushed out of the kitchen to see all the commotion. He took one look at Hikaru and tensed in a snap of the fingers. Tentatively, he approached with invariable disbelief.

"Hotaru?" He turned to her for an elaboration just as she shut the door and stepped over the threshold.

"Long story short," she sighed with closed eyes, "a… an _acquaintance_ named Hyuuga Natsume got me permission to retrieve him from Alice Academy for Golden Week."

"Hyuuga?" Hotaru's mother's voice rose several pitches. She turned to Mr. Imai while pointing upwards. "Isn't this Hyuuga person Subaru's friend that he told us about a few years ago?"

"Not anymore."

A total of three people turned their heads toward the growl. Subaru was right in the doorway of his father's bedroom, adjusting a navy blue tie. He wore shiny loafers, a crisp white button down shirt and black khakis with two vertical, folded lines stretching all the way down his legs. A blazer was tucked underneath his arm. It looked like it was about to slip off.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hotaru saw Hikaru tensing at the sight of his father. She noticed, now, that it wasn't really a tense—more like a flinch. His eyes were resolutely glued to the floor even as Subaru approached.

"Hey kid," said Subaru softly. He reached a fond hand to the back of Hikaru's head and pulled him in for a five second hug. Hikaru showed no sign of resistance but he trembled visibly in his father's arms. "Hope you're doing good," he said with half shut eyelids. He then let go of Hikaru, but not before ruffling the child's hair one last time.

All they could hear subsequently was the stomping of running feet, a loud slam and the click of a lock as Hikaru locked himself inside the guest room.

In the living room, all was silent. Mr. and Mrs. Imai were obviously exchanging looks that almost screamed to Hotaru they were wondering whether they should tell her the secret or not. She raised her eyebrows very briefly at them both before turning to her brother.

"Why does he hate you so much?"

"Hotaru!" her father chastised the bluntness of her question.

Subaru just shook his head and exited the house.

Hotaru spared one glance at her parents, who still had mixed expressions. They were obviously useless in this case. She turned her head towards the wooden door. Hikaru was still showing no sign of life even after his father left the house. He probably would not come out without some coaxing. Mrs. Imai would be more than apt for that. Hotaru sighed and shook her head a few times before jogging after her brother.

"Hey!"

She could see his figure some fifty metres in the distance on the single dirt road that Nagoya ran along. He did not even perk up at her call, instead continuing to stride in even firmer steps. So she ran up to him and swatted him on the shoulder, forcing him to turn and scowl.

"I was talking to you."

"I know," he retorted in a tone that clearly stated _if this is about my son again, I don't want to talk about it_.

She knew she would not get a word out of him if she pressed, so she diverted the subject by reaching into her purse and pulling out a little satin box. "You know how it was your birthday a week ago and how you were constantly pestering me about not getting you a present? Well, here."

Subaru glanced at the dark blue box suspiciously before taking it with his long fingers. He looked to Hotaru, querying, "are you sure you didn't put a mini water gun in there that's going to pop out and spray me in the face?"

"You have a very vivid imagination, but no, that is a real present."

His eyebrows flew up once and landed back down. He snapped open the lid with his fingers and took the ring from the box slowly. As he brought it up to his eyes, she smiled. Earlier that week, she bought him a white gold ring adorned with a glossy moonstone, partially because she thought it was beautiful and partially because having a pearl would make it too obvious.

Nonetheless, Subaru caught on. "Is this a joke?" he bit at her. "I don't wear rings."

"Oh, do not say that. That is your birthstone."

"My birth stone is a diamond." He glared pointedly at her. "This is the birthstone of June."

"Really?" she cheekily feigned ignorance. "Well, my bad, then. The jeweler told me that it was for April. Here, hand it over and I will return it immediately… following Golden Week of course."

Subaru rolled his eyes at her and grunted in annoyance, but he did slip on the ring as she thought he would. Although, he made it obvious to her that it was given a place on the middle finger of his left hand and not the ring. Despite this, she was still gleeful enough to smile giddily while he pocketed the satin blue box.

"So why are you dressed so formally?" asked Hotaru as he started walking again. "Are you going somewhere for the weekend? Some woman you have been seeing?"

"No. I'm taking a body to the city for an autopsy and cremation."

She blinked in surprise and paused her strides for a moment. "On Golden Week?"

"Yes, sister. Of course people don't die on Holidays. No, they choose better times to pass away so they wouldn't have to inconvenience the rest of us who still have things to do and places to go. God forbid you die in the most inopportune moment in your life, like before you're finished paying off your debts or even see your granddaughter grow up."

"It is quite unsettling how you say this all with a straight face."

Subaru sighed patiently. "I may not be in the best mood right now. Sakura-ji just passed away yesterday. I called you earlier to let you know that there's no need to come over when everybody's just going to be mourning."

Oh, so that was the call.

"Well, there is little we can do about it now. Is Sakura-ji's body at his house?"

Subaru's head perked. "Yes, why?"

"Well, you will need to pick up his body and teleport to a city—and I assume that you will teleport because there are no other viable forms of transportation in this town available during Golden Week." Subaru reminded her with a look to stop stating the obvious and Hotaru suppressed the urge to swat him again. "Well then, will you be back by Monday?"

Oh, so _now_ he wanted to deign her with a response. "Monday? Probably not, why?"

"I was a little concerned about the timing because I will be taking Hikaru to see his mother on Monday. I thought he was exaggerating when he stated that he did not wish to see his father, but maybe it is for the better if he reacts so negatively to the mere sight of you."

"You're taking him to Naomi?" It was as if Subaru never heard anything else. "Why are you taking him to _Naomi_?"

"…Well, why not? She is kind of his mother, you know? Unless you have forgotten somewhere in the past seven years?"

He mumbled something under his breath that she could not catch. When Hotaru held a hand to her ear and leaned closer, Subaru grunted in displeasure before snapping, "do you really think she'll be satisfied with just seeing him? You'll only make her miss her son even more, assuming that taking him out of Alice Academy is a one time thing—and speaking of which, what business do you have with Hyuuga for him to do such a big favour for you? Don't you two hate each other?"

Hotaru shot him a look that let him know that she knew what he was doing and she was not going to let him steer the direction of the conversation. "Right, so about seeing Naomi… You are aware that I am going to take him there whether you consent or not."

"I should have known. Since when did I have control over you?" he remarked more to himself than to her.

Subaru stopped upon arrived at Old Sakura's house and Hotaru with him. Mikan's grandfather, like all other Nagoya residents, had a very old fashioned bungalow, a living space he literally rebuilt from a farmhouse. Old Sakura was rich for a countryman. He had a large plot of land, farmed in his youth and rented his land to younger workers as he grew older. When Mikan was small, she had probably been friends with the sons and daughters of these younger workers. Now, they did not even matter anymore. Those people were from a life a long time ago and neither Mikan nor Hotaru remembered their names.

Subaru unlocked the entrance and slid the door open. The inside of the house was much more spacious than the Imais' house. Old Sakura's foyer was small but his living room contained a good three hundred square feet of free space covered with nothing but mats and futons. The four walls of the living room were lined with ancient vases and shelves holding huge collections of valuable antiques. Large windows adorned bright white walls on two sides, completely filling the room with sunlight. This was the house in the country that everyone dreamed of at least once in their lives but never actually had the money to buy.

"Neat," she commented, poking her head inside before Subaru grabbed her and dragged her out by the back of her collar.

"I can take it from here."

"Can I go in?"

"No," the response came firm as he shooed her away by flapping his hand. When she pressed for entrance, he firmly grabbed her shoulders and grounded her to her spot. "Look, I don't mind what you do in Tokyo. That's your own business. I can't stop you from talking to Hyuuga or becoming friends with him, though I try. But here, in Nagoya, I won't let you disrespect someone else's property out of mere curiosity. Sakura-ji is dead, yes. He has bequeathed us this house, yes, but only because Mikan is not here at the moment. We are only to hold onto it until she comes back to claim her inheritance. Before then, you are to touch nothing."

"I was not going to," she stated, but even as the words left her mouth, her eyes fixated on a ornate box sitting on a ledge protruding from a wall.

A master craftsman must have been chosen to decorate that. Even from here, she could just barely make out a few large details the small flowers and vines that were carved into the sandy wood. Except for the fact that it was in perfect shape, it almost looked like something from the Renaissance. There was even a golden lock to compliment the design, although she doubtful as to whether or not it was real gold; at second glance, the colour resembled her key just a slight.

As Hotaru squinted her eyes for a closer look, Subaru jerked her again, momentarily causing the vines and flowers of the design to distort into something completely different. Hotaru gasped and took a step back. Subaru, mistakenly thinking that he had shoved her a little rougher than he intended, outstretched a hand and asked if she was okay.

"Yes, I am fine," she mumbled distractedly.

She glanced to the box again, this time blurring her vision instead of focusing it. Subaru was convinced that she was out of her mind, but thankfully he got distracted enough by her absurd behavior to momentarily forget about Old Sakura. After Hotaru stood unmoving for a minute, though, he finally decided that it was a lost cause and stepped across the threshold of Old Sakura's house. She kissed her teeth, annoyed that she could not get the right degree of blurriness to confirm what she had seen.

He shook his head as he was closing the door and she stepped forward in a last attempt.

There it was, just for a second: vines and flowers carved in a pattern that, when blurred correctly, formed five letters.

_MIKAN._

* * *

><p>It's up to you to guess where Mikan is, but my guess that you probably won't come close. On the other hand, a handful of you will probably be spot on at guessing what's in the box.<p>

Also somewhat noteworthy: I explained Schrödinger's Cat and Fermat's Last Theorem in the way that Hotaru, Hikaru and Ross Anderson would, respectively. Please don't actually try to learn the concepts from what I've put here. There are professional physicists for that. :)

Please alert, fave, review!

-IndigoGrapefruit


	14. Cheater Cheater

Before we begin, I apologize. I recall stating that I was going to list the differences between the old and new version of Finding Mikan that were essential to understand the story. So if you read Cat in Nature without rereading the rest of the story, you might not have understood it to its full extent. Again, I'm very sorry. Without further ado, here they are (and forgive me if I miss any):

1) In Irving Academy, Hotaru developed a very stringent fear of failure, which is why she's paranoid of doing anything that doesn't have a hundred percent success rate.

2) Ross Anderson was Hotaru Imai's teacher.

3) She remembers a girl in Irving Academy with the Amplification Alice who was jealous of her ability to invent. The girl supposedly used her, but was taken away and never seen again.

4) There is a woman living on a hill in Nagoya that Subaru dislikes immensely.

5) Chiaki is doing everything for his wife, Yoko. Hotaru did not willingly steal the Truth Alice bracelet from him. He gave it to her.

6) Shizune appears to be uneasy when Hotaru asked her why she was working for ARC.

7) Subaru _abhors_ Chiaki.

Personally, I think that after reading these clues, if you remember enough details, you should immediately make one or two connections. Maybe it's just me though, since I know the entire storyline. But hey, a few of you did make the connection between the pouch and the key. :) I have faith!

_Disclaimed._

* * *

><p><strong>Finding Mikan<strong>

Chapter Fourteen: Cheater Cheater

* * *

><p>Mr. and Mrs. Imai spent the weekend pampering Hikaru in every way they possibly could. Personally, Hotaru did not have any complaints. She was too busy chewing off ends of pens in an attempt to figure out exactly what the box was doing at Old Sakura's house and how long it had been there. Seeing as they were in Nagoya, the nosiest town in all of Japan, there was no possibly way she could surreptitiously sneak into his house without Subaru present.<p>

And Subaru was not present.

She cursed his absence. She cursed it with all her heart. In fact, there was only one reason she was glad that he was not in town presently.

No. Scratch that. There were two.

Without his father's presence, Hikaru appeared to be much happier. Later Friday, when he finally unlocked the door to the guest room, the Imai family, sans Subaru, tiptoed in to find him asleep. Because he was curled up against the wall, his head leaning on a stack of books, Hotaru picked him up and carried him onto the bed. While she did, she noticed the solemnity of his slumber. Even while sleeping, Hikaru looked sad, confused, angry even.

_How did your family become like this? What did you do, Subaru?_

She sat on a high rock that she found in her parents' house's backyard, her knees folded so that they reached her chin. Wrapping her arms around herself, Hotaru fixed her glassy eyes on a spot of grass.

"Auntie?" Two small hands landed on her shoulder and a boy on tiptoes craned his neck to see her face from behind. "Are you having another episode? Do you need me to heal you?"

Hotaru smiled, lowered her head and shook it. "I figured that there was a twenty three percent chance you would leave the house. I did not expect you to actually come."

Hikaru walked around her figure to sit in front of her, his two feet pressed together and elbows leaning on his upper thighs. "Does everything become a number in your eyes?" he asked, staring up at her in wonder.

"Something like that, yes," answered Hotaru, stretching her legs out to set her feet back to the floor. "We are leaving in a few hours. Are you ready to see your mother?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed, hopping up in excitement. His hands were clenched zealously in front of him. "Yes! I'm ready! Can we leave now?"

"You do not even want to say goodbye to your grandparents?"

Hikaru paused in his excitement. His shoulders slunk a little in guilt of his overeager reaction. However, the guilt quickly dispersed and gave way to more eagerness. Soon, Hotaru found her hand being pulled by her nephew as he dragged her into the house to bid Mr. and Mrs. Imai their farewells.

Her parents were, needless to say, immensely sad about his departure—her mother was now on the verge of crying. She held her hands to her heart as Hikaru wrapped his tiny arms around her. When he told them "I love you," she turned away, unable to hold it in anymore but shy and embarrassed enough to hide her face, though it was obvious to everyone that it was covered with tears.

Hikaru tugged at Hotaru's sleeve. "Let's go, Auntie!"

"Do you not want to leave a goodbye note to Subaru?"

Everyone in the room promptly froze, except for Hotaru's father who had stated the request. Mrs. Imai finally whipped her teary face around. Hikaru looked shellshocked. When Hotaru felt that the tension could no longer be cut with knife, she pulled herself together to glare at her father.

"I do not know what happened between you and Subaru to upset you so. He may have wronged you, as it is in his nature to wrong others, but I know my own son enough to ensure you that his intentions were good. He is your father, you know, no matter how much you dislike him. That fact will never change."

"If I could change that, I would," Hikaru mumbled quietly enough so that only Hotaru was able to hear. Then, he raised his head, blinked back the tears and announced, "okay then. Tell him I said goodbye."

But the tone he used implied not just _goodbye_ but _forever goodbye_. So as Hotaru held her nephew's hand, as their surroundings disappeared into a shroud of light, there was unease in her heart that the only fixture in her present life—her family—was actually being torn apart at its seams.

* * *

><p>Like Subaru implied many times, Naomi was quite well off. Whether it was the money and assets she received via divorce or her own salary, it was enough to provide her with a very nice home in a very nice neighbourhood. Though Kyoto was a little more traditional than Tokyo and bigger cities, the residential part of the city was still very condensed and clustered. Naomi's neighbourhood was private, fenced in and regulated daily. It had arrays of square boxes, mini botanical gardens containing different varieties of beautiful and striking flowers.<p>

Hikaru and Hotaru arrived right in front of her building, a pristine white, seven floored structure with sparkling glass windows and neatly tiled balconies.

"Would it not have been convenient for us to teleport directly into Naomi-san's apartment?" Hotaru asked Hikaru as they approached one of the enclosed staircases of the building. It was locked by giant iron bars that could only be opened from the inside by a tenant.

"Mom doesn't like that."

Hikaru's finger traveled up and down the family names on the buzzer. His finger stopped halfway down on _Imai._Hotaru's eyes widened in surprise as Hikaru dialed the number next to his family name. She looked to her nephew's face, but he had the same nonchalant countenance that he always carried.

She cleared her throat. "I thought she was divorced from Subaru. Does she still keep my family name?"

"Yes," he stated firmly and she wondered how, at such a young age, he obtained the hereditary Imai gift of ending a conversation with a single word.

But perhaps the more pressing matter at hand was that despite reaction so strongly to his father's presence, he did not seem to be fazed the slightest. And what of Naomi? From what Hotaru heard, it sounded like a horrible divorce between two adults. She always thought that Naomi was the one to blame for shunning her brother after discovering their differences. Was Subaru not the one left yearning for her? Yet he seemed displeased whenever she was mentioned, which Hotaru always thought was because he could not bear to think of a woman who had scorned him so.

So if Naomi was the one responsible for the breaking apart of their marriage, _why_ had she willingly kept Subaru's name?

Unfortunately, her pondering was cut short by some static and a voice that was definitely not Naomi. "Imai residence. Naomi, is that you? I thought you were visiting your folks up north for Golden Week."

Hikaru involuntarily took a step back, horrified. His mouth was agape; he just did not want to believe that his mother had gotten involved with another man. Hotaru was also at a loss of what to do.

"Hello? This better not be one of you kids again, going around pressing random buzzers. Don't think I won't report you."

"W-who are you?" the child borderline screamed. "Why are you in my mom's apartment?"

There was no answer but a clear sound of a receiver being fitted back into the phone base.

A second later, the door clicked open. As soon as it did, Hikaru grabbed an iron bar and wrung it hard enough for the door to swing all the way around, hitting the wall with a loud bag. Impartial to the noise, Hikaru raced up the flights of stairs, leaving Hotaru to catch the door before it locked again. With moderate difficulty, she leaved their luggage after the energetic kid. It was a feat getting two suitcases up the flights of stairs, but not much different from what she had done at the cruise ship. A few muscle enhancement stickers did the trick. Luckily, Hikaru was waiting for her on the third floor, panting.

As soon as she rolled the last wheel of her suitcase onto the top step, the door to apartment number 301—Naomi's apartment—swung open. Grabbing the inside handle was a man and he did _not_ look like someone that Hikaru's mother would get together with.

He had lengthy red hair hanging messily about his face mismatched with green eyes that were framed by heavy eyeliner. Almost all of his clothes were studded and leather, tightly stretched around a built figure. He had a lip ring, seven piercings on his left ear and a large spacer on his right. Hotaru raised an eyebrow, repressing an urge to ask exasperatingly, "_really?_"

However, it was Hikaru who spoke first. "You are _not_ my mom's new boyfriend."

At this, the man blinked incredulously before bursting uncharacteristically into laughter. "Of course not. Naomi and I aren't even close friends, let alone lovers. She put out an ad for apartment rental a few weeks ago and I happened to stumble upon it. It's a nice neighbourhood and her rent's reasonable. I was told that she had a son but that he was off in a boarding school far away."

Hikaru narrowed his eyes dubiously. He folded his arms and snarled, "yeah, well I'm not here to see you. Where's my mom?"

Hotaru, in good humour, also gave the man an expectant look.

He was now leaning casually against the door frame. At six foot four, his hair barely grazed the top of the doorframe and he towered well over the two of them. Anyone passing by would have assumed that it was Hotaru and Hikaru who were trying to appease him—the giant goth man who looked like he could snap their necks with one hand.

"She's gone to see her relatives for Golden Week."

"_I'm_ her relative!" Hikaru shouted, taking a step forward. Amazingly, the giant man also took a step backward in response to his assertiveness. "Let me call her."

The man raised an arm and pointed at something to his left. "The phone's on the table," he informed them before stepping back into the living room to let them in. His figure alone took up all the space in the foyer.

Hikaru marched in while huffing. Hotaru followed him, taking care to roll their suitcases over the high threshold without too much rattling. Not three steps in, the man took them from her hands in a way that indicated he was amused by the strength that came from someone so small and skinny. Hotaru let go of them for a second, only to get chastised by Hikaru, who was adamant that his suitcase was not to be handed to a stranger.

"I am just going to head to the washroom for a second," she told them both, feeling a little like she was intruding on Naomi's private life.

"It's down the hallway, first door to the right," the man muttered absentmindedly while regarding Hikaru with amusement. His body was drawn back, almost as if he was tempting a cheetah ready to spring at any moment.

Naomi's apartment smelled of fresh chrysanthemums in every room. Her balcony was filled with the flowers and she left only a screen door closed, allowing the wind to carry the aroma in to fill the lightly furnished lounge and bathroom. As Hotaru peered outside at the brightly coloured flowers, she pressed speed dial on her cell phone for Subaru's work number.

"Where do you get all my personal information?" he grumbled after a single second.

"From dad, and did you know that Naomi-san has a new tenant? He looks like a bulldozer… with spikes. Hikaru hates him."

"…Is that all?" He sounded even more irritated, if possible. "You called me for _this_?"

"That, and to apologize for what I did the other day. It was rude of me to impose that ring with Naomi-san's birthstone on you, especially since you hate her so much."

He elapsed into silence for a minute, in which she could hear some of Hikaru and the red haired man's muffled bickering.

"I don't hate her…" he finally mumbled.

"But she hates you," Hotaru pressed on, gripping her hand tighter around her Blackberry. "Does she not? Is that not why she moved away? Regardless, I still apologize for reminding you of your ex-wife. It must be painful thinking of her and how she could not deal with the idea of Alices and being married to one."

Another pause. Some more bickering.

"Yeah," he finally choked out bitterly. "She hates me. It's just how it has to be."

He sounded tired and sad, so tired and said that before Hotaru knew it, she quietly told him, "Subaru, I saw the name on her apartment's buzzer… She is listed as Imai."

There was no pause this time.

"What?" he gasped softly. What came after was not so soft and Hotaru had to hold the phone away from her ear for a comfortable volume. "No! _No!_ _Why? _Why would she do that? I—why doesn't she just scream to the world, 'Subaru's wife is here'? I told her not to do that. I _told _her. I—"

His heavy panting filled up the entire bathroom, even though her Blackberry had not been put on speaker.

With one last sigh, Subaru confessed, "I'm sorry. Forget that. I hadn't meant to say that. I haven't been myself recently. It's the stress of Sakura-ji's death and the pressure of the townspeople of Nagoya… amongst other things. I've been slipping ever since you brought Hikaru home. I was really happy for a moment, happy enough to forget for a moment the duty I have to certain people. It's been confirmed that Sakura-ji died of pneumonia and it just frustrates me more than anything that I could have prevented this from happening."

Hotaru pressed her lips together. "Is this one of the things you are saying to beat yourself up for being the doctor of a patient who was inevitably destined for death? He was going to die whether you liked it or not."

"If not for me, he might have seen his granddaughter one last time."

"Would he have? I wonder. Does Sakura-san even care enough to visit her grandfather again? It seems to me like the circumstances would not allow that for a long time. There are many people out there looking for her, good and bad likewise."

"How would you know about this?" Subaru asked, alarmed.

Hotaru's lips clamped shut.

He sighed. "Hotaru, I implore you one last time to stop being where you shouldn't be, doing what you shouldn't do and minding what you shouldn't mind."

She clenched her teeth together. "If you would stop blaming yourself for everything."

"I am not. It _is_ my fault that Sakura-ji passed away. I underestimated the seriousness of his Alzheimer's. I thought mom and dad were… in danger but it turned out to be a false alarm. In my rush, I gave him an Alice stone because I knew that he was running low, but I only told him to keep it by his side at all times. I didn't make it into a necklace or bracelet like I did with the others. I didn't even return to check because I was scared that the threat would return while I was gone. This Friday, right before I left his house, I found my Alice stone in his drawer, untouched."

"Basically," she summarized for him, "you made a mistake."

He laughed. "Are you going to give me the cliché about everyone making mistakes, even doctors?"

She walked over to the mirror with her phone to her ear. Hotaru paused, peering for three seconds at the ghastly image of a violet eyed woman who stared back at her. She wanted to pick at all the flaws at her figure like normal girls and normal women. But each time she tried to think of something negative, she always saw something worse. Her eyebags were droopy, but there was a time where they had been droopier. Her complexion was too pale, but at least she was not white. At least she was not sweating buckets of cold sweat.

"No…" She clenched and unclenched her right hand. She was not strong, but at least she was not so weak that she could barely feel her fingers. At least now she could actually control when they curled in. "I know all too well the consequences of the tiniest little blip. You are right in the sense that failure is inevitable in the nature of humans. But does that really make it okay? No, it does not. Not one bit."

Before Subaru could conjure an answer for her, a loud clang, followed by a series of thumps and screeches rang from the living room. Hotaru, caught off guard, instinctively hung up on her brother and pocketed her phone. She burst open the door and ran out to where the cacophony originated.

What she found was Hikaru in a rage. One hand tightly clasped a blue and white china vase and the other a small teacup. Both grips were so tight veins were protruding from his knuckles. Shattered pieces, no doubt china that had already been broken in the scuffle, littered the floor. The grown man was forced back into a corner, his own two hands drawn out protectively.

"My mom," Hikaru hissed, raising the hand that held the vase, "would _never_ rent out her apartment. Who are you? What have you done with her? Why won't she answer the phone? Where is my mom?"

Hotaru took a tentative step forward.

"I'm not your enemy," the man yelled. "Look, kiddo. I didn't sign up for this either. Naomi needed someone with her."

Hikaru was about to follow through with his throw but Hotaru caught his hand midair and pulled him back. He lost grip of the vase and it fell to the floor, shattering with a particularly harsh clang.

"That is enough," she commanded them both with a glare.

"Auntie, stay out of this!" It was then that she saw tears welling up in his eyes. His face was completely red and his forehead shiny with sweat. Hikaru swiped the back of his hand across it, dragging aside strands of hair that'd stuck there. "This is my mom!" He pointed accusingly at the man. "They've got my mom!"

She restrained his hysterics with a firm hand on his shoulder, but lifted her head to glare at the suspicious man in Naomi's apartment. No longer belligerent, his shoulders were slacked and his face troubled in a way that did not settle right with her.

"Are you one of Hidaka's henchmen?" she interrogated.

He froze. "Y-you're Imai's sister. How do you know about the Hidakas?"

She pressed her lips together unpleasantly. Slowly lifting her hand off Hikaru's shoulder, Hotaru strode toward the man with a vengeance. The closer she got, the more her muscles tightened. She had not peeled off the stickers yet, and if he had no evasive Alices, she could pummel him within a second's notice.

"The better question is," she growled, vigorously slamming him into the wall. "How do _you_ know _my_ brother? Are you here for the child?"

Both his hands were clenching her one arm that was crushing him further and further into the wall. Turned out he was not as tough as his appeared to be after all. "I'm only here for one person," he wheezed, "and that's Naomi. You think it settles well with me that she's not answering her phone? And to be stalled here by the two unlikeliest people when she can be well off to the next country by now…"

"Answer my question." Hotaru slammed him across the wall once again. It was now looking precariously close to either collapsing or giving out into a huge hole.

He donned an exhausted smile while shaking his head. His hand reached into his pocket, drawing out a glowing yellow stone. Right under her very hands, the man started to fade away. She mentally cursed and dragged him off the wall as if it would bring him out of the teleportation in the process. Her efforts were to no avail, for he kept fading.

Behind her, a series of clangs rang out as Hikaru ran across the field of broken china. Just as her fingers began grasping at air, he shoved her aside and latched onto the man with both hands. She gave a silent cry in fear that her nephew would be dragged along with him. But a blinding flash of white light forced her to her knees and look away.

When it ended, she swiveled to see a panting Hikaru and a clump of red and black on the ground.

The most amazing thing happened next. The stranger's skin stretched and contorted as if his entire body was being reconstructed. Both Imais took a step back and watched the transformation unblinkingly. Gradually, his red hair turned blond, his earrings popped off and his entire body shrunk. In his clothes, he now looked like a turtle carrying a shell much too big for his size.

Hotaru walked over and pulled his head up by long, blond bangs to examined his face. He had chubby cheeks, small eyes and thick eyebrows. His nose was flat. His lips were thin and framed by a scraggly mustache.

"Do you recognize him?"

She shook her head.

"Imposter," he hissed venomously. "He's just like the ones Alice Academy sent here to capture me. First they pretended to be strangers advertising from door to door. Then they went to my school. They want me back. I just know it. They're scared that my mom's going to take me away so they took her. I'm not going back to the school without seeing mom!"

She wrapped her hand around her chin contemplatively. "Regardless of whether he's from the academy or not, there's a much easier way to squeeze information out of him."

Hikaru's eyes lit up. "Really?"

She crossed the room, crushing pieces of china with her feet. Hikaru followed her to her purse, nicely placed on top of the suitcases. Suspicious of the man from the beginning, the kid made sure they remained untouched. She stuck a hand in, rummaged a little but quickly found the item that she was looking for.

_Fortunately, I only have one set of luggage for travelling so this happened to be on hand. _

She pulled out a hand from underneath the unconscious man and fitted the bracelet tightly around it. A red stone gleamed in the sunlight.

* * *

><p>"Where am I?"<p>

Hotaru and Hikaru both paused in their reading to look up.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

At the sound of the child's voice, a shiver ran down the man's body. He tried scooting away but found it unsuccessful as he was secured to a bedpost of the very bed Hotaru and Hikaru were sitting on.

They were in Naomi's bedroom, one where, surprisingly, the wedding portrait was kept. It was not hung. It was placed in a corner, uncovered and unturned. It was also placed at the rear of her bed, right beneath a high window. Should Naomi choose to sit up in the middle of the night, she could get an immediate view of it.

Hotaru was beginning to doubt more and more that the divorce was truly one sided on Naomi's part.

The man let out a defeated laugh. "How like Subaru's son to have all his Alices."

Hikaru balled his hands into fists. "Don't talk about my mom and dad like you know them well."

"I know them…" his mouth remained open but he struggled to choke out the words. Alarmed, the man's eyes snapped to his wrist and the bracelet that adorned it. "You… a Truth Alice bracelet? This—Hidaka! You can't be!"

Hotaru slid her too legs off of the bed. His head was level with her hands, so she lowered her own to stare him dead in the eye. "Look, stranger, whatever relationship you have with Naomi-san and my brother, you are going to tell us right now." She tapped down on the bed frame with her index finger twice. "I suggest you speak willingly because my nephew here is part of the Dangerous Abilities Class and his Pain Alice can knock you out for days."

The man gritted his teeth. "Subaru's own family members working for ARC right under his nose. How ironic is that?"

She was genuinely offended by his accusation and was about to open her mouth before Hikaru did it first.

"What the hell is ARC?"

The man was taken back by his question, demanding and cutting but unmistakably authentic.

Hotaru resisted the urge to smirk. "Working for ARC, are we?"

He glared up at her. "He may not be but you're definitely in cahoots with Hidaka."

"How dare you suggest—"

"Why would you have this then?" he yelled, attempting to pull his hand up but tugging the rope taut as he did. He winced at the rope burn but continued to tug at it until she realized he was gesturing to the bracelet. "Is this not clearly one of Hidaka's devices?"

Hotaru's lips pressed tightly as she thought back to that conversation. Had she ultimately been tricked by Chiaki? Knowing their adversarial relationship, him willing lending her one of his devices would not make sense unless there was something she could do that he could not. She swallowed an uninviting lump in her throat before focusing back to the task at hand.

"I stole it from him on an Alice cruise."

He snorted in disbelief.

"In any case, it seems that you are no friend of ARC's. What affairs do you have, then, with Naomi-san?"

"It's none of your business," he bit out and Hikaru held up his hand threateningly.

"Who are you?"

"Nendo Kaoru."

She narrowed her eyes. "Who do you work for?"

"Im—" he appeared irritated again as the bracelet prevented him from speaking. "ALP."

"Alp who?"

He smiled. "ALP."

Hikaru was about to repeat the question but Hotaru interjected, "it is not a person, Hikaru. ALP is the name of a group or organization, illegal by the looks of it." Her eyes narrowed on his treacherous face. "Am I right?"

He continued smiling.

"Now…" This interrogation was starting to get on her nerves. The stubborn man was clearly unwilling to talk. Hikaru had not used his Alice yet but Hotaru knew that it would be disadvantageous for him to use it too much. There could be dire consequences if ARC found out about the forceful interrogation they were conducting. As it was, Hikaru was already in a bad position with them; their entire family was. "What does ALP stand for?"

He looked a little too laid back for her to be comfortable. "It's a secret. If you ask around, you'll probably find out. In fact, why don't you start by going to Hidaka, seeing as there are more than a few things he's hiding from you?"

She bit the inside of her lip. Fine. If he thought that she plotting with Chiaki, as offensive as it was, she would use it to her advantage. "What is Hidaka hiding from me?"

Kaoru laughed loudly. "You don't even know?" he asked with a pitying smirk. "I feel so sorry for you right now, you poor little sheep. The wolf's going to sharpen his claws and he's going to tear off your fleece when you least expect it. The people who get involved with Hidaka never make it out. That's the kind of person he is."

It was all useless information that she could deduct from her own observations of Chiaki Hidaka. Hotaru endured his artistic interpretations of her situation in boredom, barely holding back the urge to yawn loudly in his face.

"Auntie…" Hikaru called nervously, unsure of what to do.

She probably should not be doing this, forcing a seven year old to interrogate someone else. It was dirty business done by dirty people. Someone so innocent should not be dragged into this mess. Yet he insisted on helping and she could not refuse. How could she say no when his eyes shone with such vehemence? After all, she had lost her mother once as well.

"Yes, and I expect ALP and whoever you are working directly under to have much more virtuous values than ARC? Taking on different appearances to stalk Alices' families… Surely your boss is every bit as sly and as conniving as Hidaka is."

His eyes gleamed angrily. "Don't you _dare_ insult her! You know nothing about her. She is the kindest person in the world. Our methods of extracting information are nothing like you and your dirty lot's!"

"Then_ where's my mom?_" demanded Hikaru, grabbing Kaoru's shirt collar.

"I don't know!"

There was another flash of white which left him hissing and cursing with a very colourful vocabulary. In the time Hikaru beat the man for answers to his frustration, Hotaru regrouped her thoughts and planned where next to head in the interrogation. This was a meaningful opportunity and although there was a chance that he was unrelated to anything that she was caught up in, there was also a much better chance that he was related to everything. She decided to shoot for the gold.

"Who is she?"

Child and man both stopped to turn to her.

"Who is this 'kindest person in the world'? Tell me. I am curious."

He smirked. "Nice try. She's someone you'll never meet in your lifetime."

She narrowed her eyes. "Fair enough. I do not suppose I will ever know the kindest woman in the world, since I have never met her and I never will."

"That's ri—" He choked on his own words and it was her turn to smirk.

"Be careful, Nendo-san."

"Auntie," Hikaru called impatiently, "who is he? How is he related to my mom?"

"Well, he seems to be following her under the orders of an organization called ALP, which is likely related to your dad and… probably… Sakura Mikan-san."

Two very different reactions came from two very different people. The look on Kaoru's face suggested that she had just hit the very centre of the bullseye. After the shock wore off, he started repetitively punching the floor in panic and agitation. Even so, his reaction did not hold a candle to Hikaru's shell-shocked face.

"You… know that woman?" the child whispered, wide eyed and ghastly pale.

"No, I do not know her. I used to know her."

His lips trembled like he was going to cry and Hotaru thought for a second that he was upset at her. But she was wrong. Oh, was she ever wrong.

Hikaru whipped around and focused his angry glare at the man. He threw livid, unrestrained punches all over the Kaoru's body, half screaming, half sobbing as he did. "Go to hell! Go to hell! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" His voice surged several octaves into a screech that almost broke Hotaru's heart. "I had a family!" He swiped the tears from his own eyes before returning to the uncouth punching. "How dare you think for a moment that you're welcome in this apartment? How dare you intrude on my mom's life? How dare you call her Naomi? And how dare you call _her_ the kindest woman in the world? _That stupid hag took my dad away from me!_

"Cheater!" Punch. "Cheater!" Punch. "Cheater!" Punch. Punch. Punch. "STUPID CHEATER! Take your whole lot and go to hell! You left me with _nothing_! I hope you're happy, dad. I can't believe you left us for her. You said! You said you'd never put me in a school like that! I waited for you every single day. Every day by those empty gates…"

With one last kick, he finally released the man before turning to the wedding portrait. Grabbing his book and whipping it at the image of Subaru, he cried, "you said! You said you'd come back! We even kept your stupid name and your stupid picture, you stupid, _stupid_ cheater…"

"She's not, you know," the man rasped. His bruised lip made it painful for him to talk so to affirm his statement, he shook his head insistently. "She's not a home wrecker. You've got the wrong person. She's not a home wrecker."

"Be quiet," Hotaru warned him sharply, but it was too late. Hikaru's eyes already snapped back to the man.

"How do you know?" he snapped. "You're a big, fat liar. 'Kindest person in the world?' You've got to be kidding me. You sound exactly like my father! Are _you_ her boyfriend too?"

"No…" his voice was becoming quieter. "No… I know because the reason I came here isn't to spy on Naomi. Subaru—" he groaned. "Subaru… told me to protect her."

His exhaled one last time before slumping and passing out on the spot.

* * *

><p>Several bombshells here and no, they're not completely out of the blue. Some of them may seem like it, but they're not.<p>

Well obviously, this is not going to be finished by the end of the summer and neither is Three Wishes. But rest assured, it'll be done even if I have to spend four years writing it.

By the way, the extent of Kaoru's Face Change Alice has never been specified so it's unknown if he can actually transform his full body. But after sixteen years, I'd expect him to have trained his Alice enough to be proficient at disguising.

Please alert, fave, review!

-IndigoGrapefruit


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